


What Fortune Favors - A Nygmobblepot Story

by ominousspoons



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Cuddling, First Kiss, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Angst, Guilt, Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, Hypnosis, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Love Confessions, M/M, Mad Hatter - Freeform, Mind Control, Mind Games, Mutual Pining, Nygmobblepot, Past Child Abuse, Repressed Feelings, Scarecrow - Freeform, Scarecrow's Fear Toxin (DCU), Slow Burn, mentions of abuse, past trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2020-02-25 22:15:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18710752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ominousspoons/pseuds/ominousspoons
Summary: Oswald Cobblepot is the reigning king of Gotham, but he is faced with a dilemma. What is having everything without someone to share it with? He's fallen in love with someone, his right-hand man, Edward Nygma, and has plans to tell him. After all, what good is love when there's no one to share it with? However, things take a turn for the worse when Jervis Tetch inserts himself into their story.Edward is forced to face his fears plus some repressed feelings, and Oswald realizes just how much he loves Ed.Essentially a season 3 rewrite where Oswald never runs for mayor.





	1. A Very Thorough Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Less of a proper first chapter than it is a detailed synopsis of Ed and Oswald's relationship up until where the story of my interpretation actually starts, including Oswald breaking Edward out of Arkham.  
> Update: Now with cover art!

 

As Oswald Cobblepot climbed the steps to Jim Gordon’s desk only to find it empty, he could feel someone’s eyes boring down on him. Looking up to the upper floor of the GCPD, he could see who had been looking. A man in a lab coat and glasses quickly averted his gaze. Oswald glared upwards despite their lack of eye contact, but decided to pay it no mind; after all, people were quick to recognize him, so getting looks wasn’t uncommon.

But as he walked to the front desk of the GCPD, he could feel the eyes still watching his back. The man had climbed down the steps and was walking parallel to him. Even as Oswald looked forward, he always kept the man in his peripherals. His strides were long and hurried. Even as they walked, the man’s eyes still stayed on Oswald, his pesky presence reminding him of a mosquito.

As they reached the front desk, he could feel the man behind him, hesitating just for a moment before coming to a stop right beside .

“Can I help you?” Oswald asked, turning to finally address the man out of annoyance.

“I don’t think so.” The man turned his head to make eye contact through his glasses, smiling childishly. “Can you?”

Oswald responded with a sarcastic grin. “What do you want?”

“What I want: the poor have, the rich need, and if you eat it, you’ll die.” He tilted his head as he talked, reminding Oswald faintly of how a dog would tilt his head out of curiosity.

Oswald’s smile faltered at his nerve. “Is this… are you asking me a riddle?”

It took almost no time for the man to respond. “Do you like riddles?”

Oswald was almost impressed. Never before had someone been able to render Oswald Cobblepot, known for his sharp tongue, nearly speechless. “...No.”

“So do you give up?” For a moment, Oswald genuinely believed that this man had no idea who he was. That was the only possible explanation as to why he thought he could speak to him in such an upfront manner and practically stalk him.

“Friend, lookit-”

“Nothing, the answer is nothing. The poor have it, the rich need it, and if you eat it-”

Oswald held up his hand to silence him. “Who are you?”

“Edward. Nygma. I know who _you_ are.” Ah, so he did know who Oswald was; he was just a complete moron. He looked ‘Edward’ up and down for a moment.

“Then you know that you’re standing too close.” Edward’s smile faded as he looked down at his feet before taking a cautious step back. Finally, something seemed to get through his thick skull. Oswald turned back to the front desk before Edward spoke again.

“Did you know that male emperor penguins keep their eggs warm by balancing them on their feet?” Oswald turned his head to glare at the fact that he was _still_ talking. Some people had no idea how to shut up. “Isn’t that neat?”

“Nice to meet you, sir.” Oswald’s eyes darkened as he stared at the man. “Keep moving.” Edward’s seemingly never-ending smile faded for a moment, apparently searching Oswald’s eyes. Then, he smiled again.

“Will do.” With that, Edward took his leave.

 

* * *

 

It took Edward the rest of the day to find the person who had stolen his food, and apparently, witnessed the scene of a murder and an attempted burial. The tiny trailer, windows alight and siding covered in vines, appeared from between the dark trees. The trail had led right to here and didn’t seem to go any further. “Finally,” Edward murmured to himself. Acknowledging the knife in his pocket and holding his flashlight out in front of him, he began to approach the trailer door. He put his ear to it, listening to whoever was inside, and-

The door swung open, knocking Edward backward. His glasses were knocked off of his face and his flashlight fell to the ground. Edward fell to the forest floor, landing hard on his back. He saw a figure stumble out of the trailer, carrying an oblong object. With a rush of adrenaline, Edward grasped the ground nearest to him in search for his glasses, acutely aware of his own heavy breathing.

His hands gripped a familiar object, and sparing no time, put his glasses to his face. A familiar figure stood in front of him, holding a baseball bat over his head. Oswald Cobblepot suddenly dropped to his knees, letting go of the bat as he did. There was a gaping hole in his shoulder, surrounded by dried blood, a smell that had also started emanating from the trailer.

“Oh my… Mr.Penguin?” Edward asked breathlessly.

“Help me… Please.” The only word to describe Oswald’s tone of voice was a whimper. And without another, Oswald collapsed onto the ground in front of Edward, letting out a grunt as he did so. Edward sat in silence for a few moments as he processed what had just happened.

Oswald Cobblepot had been a man Edward had admired since he gained a name, but before Edward's transformation into, well, a murderer, he hadn't a proper idea as to why. Now, though, he realized that it was because Oswald Cobblepot was exactly what Edward had wished to become: a once-ridiculed, now powerful and feared man, with a sense of class and flare. Edward had always dreamed of becoming exactly that. Even before he'd killed a man, Edward had countless daydreams of getting back at all of his co-workers for their taunts. They just didn't understand. After all, how could they?

But now, _now,_ Edward realized that he was in the exact same place Penguin was so long ago. Still a nobody, but on the precipice of rising to glory.

He and Oswald were the same in many ways. So, who better to lead him into infamy than the great Penguin himself? This was more than opportunistic luck that they had found each other here. Oswald, broken and in desperate need of help, and Edward, needing guidance and in the perfect place to help Oswald back to power. This had been _fate_.

Perhaps burying Kristen and the wanderer he had come upon could wait. This was more important.

“Okay, Mr.Penguin,” Edward muttered to himself. He brought himself to his feet before analyzing exactly how he could best get Oswald back to his car. It was a few miles out, so Edward knew it wouldn't be an easy task. However, he was nothing if not resourceful.

Edward carefully turned the unconscious Oswald onto his back to analyze the severity of his condition. The wound in his shoulder had been caused by a gunshot, but the bullet had gone straight through. There had been clear attempts at closing the wound, which only worked to a certain extent. Oswald had clearly passed out due to blood loss, and perhaps dehydration. Edward thought it best not to strain Oswald's arm in any way, so dragging him back by his arms was out of the question. Dragging him by his legs was also a terrible idea, given how easily Oswald's head could be cracked open by the force of a rock.

He seemed pretty lightweight due to both his height as well as his apparent lack of nutrition. So, Edward reasoned, it must be best to manage Oswald's weight himself. Edward was by no means strong, but he knew how to distribute Oswald’s weight to carry him most effectively.

So, he kneeled down to Oswald's level and scooped him up into his arms, holding him like one would hold a sleeping toddler: their chests pressed together and with Oswald's head resting on Edward's shoulder, his thighs held in place. While it wasn't exactly easy, Edward reasoned that he could manage the journey back like this, given he take timed breaks.

With that, Edward was off; the unconscious Oswald Cobblepot in his arms and a determination to embrace fate.

 

* * *

 

Edward had been watching the unconscious Oswald for some time before then, so he noticed exactly when he stirred. “Hello, sleepyhead,” he whispered, inches away from Oswald’s face. He could see when Oswald’s eyes widened in fear as he looked around, suddenly panicked.

“-Where am I?!” He gasped, clutching at the bedsheets around him. Edward felt his own sense of panic surge as Oswald moved.

“-Rapidmovementandelevatedheartratearecounterproductivetothehealingprocess-” he repeated this medical knowledge out of habit as he lunged for the syringe that was sitting at a table by the foot of the bed.“Apologies in advance!” Oswald thrashed about as Edward held him down. He then plunged the needle into the resisting Oswald’s neck, careful not to miss a vein. Oswald’s grip on him loosened as his eyes fluttered and his breathing slowed. Edward let out a sigh of relief as he leaned close to Oswald’s face.

“Rest up, my feathered friend,” he said softly. “We have a big night ahead of us.” Oswald’s eyes finally shut. Edward saw his muscles relax as he sank into the pillows, mouth slightly agape. There was something hypnotic about the way Oswald’s chest rose and fell, getting slower and slower, accompanied by the quiet sound of snoring. Edward couldn’t help but stare. After all, here he was, nursing the infamous Oswald Cobblepot back to health. His pride swelled as he saw the blood pooling from the vein in Oswald’s neck where the needle had been inserted. Picking up a towelette, Edward lightly cleaned up the blood, taking the chance to get even closer to Oswald. His fingers lightly trailed along the vein. Oswald’s pale skin was somehow corpse-like but alive at the same time thanks to the faint pinkness in his cheeks and parted lips.

He was a marvelous sight to behold. When Edward had removed Oswald’s clothes, he’d taken a while to examine his right leg. The purple wound may have looked hideous to some, but to Edward, it was a sign of survival and of strength. He had brushed his hand against it, as well as tracing other scars which Oswald had. Edward felt like he was admiring a work of art. There was something uniquely beautiful about Oswald. His pale eyes and skin contrasted his dark hair and freckles, save for the redness of his fingers. His eyes: his intense blue eyes, funnily enough, were like that of a bird’s: knowing and fascinating when looked into. How tragic it was that Edward had been the only one to see Oswald like this, admiring how astounding he truly was.

 

 

* * *

 

Edward carried the platter over to Oswald when he noticed him waking up. As Oswald caught sight of him, he scrambled up, leaning against the headboard cautiously. Edward held out the platter to Oswald, who gripped the bedsheets and looked at Edward accusingly. “You drugged me,” Oswald huffed, looking Edward up and down.

“That was for your own benefit, Mr.Penguin. You have extensive injuries.” Edward couldn’t help but smile in pride. _Yes, it was me that drugged you, and it’s me who is nursing you back to health._

Oswald stared at Edward for a long moment, brows furrowed.“... I know you.”

Edward nodded. “Ed.” When Oswald didn’t respond, he corrected himself. Of course, Oswald Cobblepot wouldn’t remember him as just ‘Ed’. “Nygma. We met once before at the GCPD.”

“You’re not a cop?”

“Oh, nononon-” Edward couldn’t help but chuckle, though he himself didn’t know what was so funny. “No, I’m in forensics.” He opened his mouth to direct the conversation, but suddenly felt a wave of doubt. Who was he, in front of the kingpin Oswald Cobblepot?

 _No_ , he thought. _Seize your moment. Stand your ground_. “Do you believe in fate?” He asked quietly.

Oswald didn’t seem to hear him. “Where are my clothes?” Oswald asked, looking down at the oversized robe he was wearing.

“Oh, I threw them away. They smelled.” Oswald looked up at Ed, seemingly violated as he tried to stand up from the bed. “Oh no- Oh my- Uh, I’m afraid sir, that you can’t leave-” He grabbed Oswald’s arms and tried to force him back. Instead, he found himself on the receiving end of Oswald’s hateful glare.

“Sedate me again, I swear I will-”

“Sir!” Edward raised his voice. “You are a wanted man. You can try and run, but with your condition, you’ll get about three blocks. I’m afraid that you’re stuck here until you recover.” Oswald reluctantly pushed Edward off of him and rolled back onto the bed. Edward grabbed the tray and held it out to Oswald, displaying the cup of water (complete with straw) on it. “Now drink up.” He noticed Oswald’s suspicious gaze. “It’s just water. Dehydration is common after prolonged outdoor exposure.”

Oswald was quick to push the tray aside. Getting the message, Edward took it back to the kitchen table.

“What do you want from me?” Oswald asked quietly. Edward turned, mind racing about just what he should say.

“Remember I had mentioned fate?” He said, leaning on the table. “Recently I’ve been going through a sort of… change. What kind of change you ask? Heh-”

“I didn’t-”

“I’ve started murdering people.” The silence settled in the air. Suddenly, Edward was alight with adrenaline. He was a murderer. His brain filled with a similar sensation that he’d gotten from the murders themselves as his eyes widened and he found himself beaming. “Wow. That is thrilling to say out loud.” He started laughing as he adjusted to the feeling that rushed through his veins.

“How many people?” Oswald inquired.

“Three in total. Two of them I didn’t really care for.” Oswald started chuckling under his breath. While it was slightly disheartening, Edward remembered that Oswald was an experienced killer, so three people couldn’t possibly compare. “But one was… my girlfriend, Ms.Kringle.” The sensation seemed to die as he remembered Kristen’s beautiful smile and the way her hair fell into her face just right. “She was the love of my life.”

“If you’re planning on killing me, could you get on with it?” Edward’s eyes widened at the weakness in Oswald’s tone. “At this point, it would come as a welcome relief.”

“Oh, heavens, nonononononononono,” Edward chuckled. “I have no ill intentions towards you.”

“Then what are your _intentions_?” Oswald spat. Edward shifted as the sense of uncertainty settled in his gut.

“I need advice, Mr.Penguin. These murders… changed me. And like the butterfly, I have come to realize that I cannot be a caterpillar once again. And you’re one of the city’s most notorious killers. I brought you here in part because… I was hoping you could guide me on this new path.” He looked to Oswald with hopeful eyes, surprised at his own elegance.

Oswald hesitated. “Listen, friend-”

“Ed.”

Oswald scowled at Edward as he sat up. “Whatever.” Oswald stood, this time meeting no resistance from Edward. He hobbled over to the window across from the bed and leaned on the pole that ran parallel to it. “My empire is in ruins. I’m a wanted man with no friends. And my mother… the one person I swore to protect is dead because of my weakness. Believe me when I tell you that this path you’re on leads to nothing but destruction and pain.” Oswald turned, newly determined. “So! Wanted or not, I’m leaving.” Oswald took two steps before his knees buckled underneath him, his body giving in to its wear and leaving him lying unconscious on the floor. 

Edward flinched, frowning. “... Oh my.”

 

* * *

 

“Tada!” Edward beamed, studying Oswald’s face as he examined the man in the chair.

“...Who’s that?” Oswald murmured.

“This is Mr.Leonard! You were talking in your sleep last night about Galavan killing your mother.” Well, not as much talking as Oswald had been sobbing. It wasn’t like Edward was going to get any sleep anyway as he stared at the ceiling from his couch, body overwhelmed with excitement. When Oswald had first started crying, Edward got up to sit right beside the bed, listening intently to every word. Oswald was truly an interesting man, and Edward was experimental by nature.

Oswald shifted in his blanket as if to cover himself. “... I was?”

“Yes… Mr.Leonard-” Edward gripped the man’s bagged head, causing him to whimper in fear. “-works for Galavan. Well, before he was arrested, of course.”

Oswald perked up. “Arrested…?”

Edward nodded excitedly. “Detective Gordon arrested Galavan for kidnapping Mayor James! He’s in Blackgate!”

Oswald seemed to ponder for a moment. “Huh.”

Edward frowned. “Oh, I thought you’d be pleased.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore. Why is he here?” Oswald looked Mr.Leonard up and down, scowling slightly.

“He was a gift for you,” Edward grinned, rubbing his hands together excitedly.

Oswald laughed quietly as if realizing his odd situation. “And what exactly am I supposed to do with a _Leonard_?”

“Kill ‘im.” Edward’s grin darkened as he walked over to the bedside, holding out a knife. “I thought it might be nice to get some retribution for your mother’s death. That it might cheer you up a little. No?” Oswald stared at the knife for a moment, then to Edward skeptically. Oswald eventually took the knife in his hand, waddling over to Mr.Leonard with Edward at his heels. Edward couldn’t contain himself; he was going to see the infamous killer Oswald Cobblepot in action. His methods would be appreciated. After all, who didn’t love a little retribution?

Oswald stared at the knife, then back to Mr.Leonard. But, to Edward’s surprise, he held the knife out, letting it drop and stick into the hardwood floors. Edward’s smile faded from his face along with it. “I’m done,” Oswald spat, hobbling back to bed. “I need some rest and then I’m leaving Gotham forever.” Edward frowned as Oswald climbed back into bed. He looked to Mr.Leonard, then to Oswald, then back to Mr.Leonard.

“I really thought he would like you,” Edward grumbled. “What to do now?” Edward began pulling the chair back, electing to leave Mr.Leonard in his closet for the time being, when he heard a soft noise coming from the bed. Oswald was quietly humming a song, and it didn’t take long to place it in his mind.

_‘But nothing will warm me more, than my, my mother’s love.’_

Edward found himself grinning as he pulled Mr.Leonard into the closet.

 

* * *

 

“But nothing will warm me more, than my, my mother’s love.” Oswald sat up as he heard a familiar song being sung. He sat up, noticing the spinning record and Ed  following it along on the piano. All things considered, Ed wasn’t all that bad a singer. “I light another candle, dry the tears from my face~”

“Why are you playing this song?” Oswald growled, trying to hide the lump in his throat.

Ed turned to Oswald, his gaze quizzical. “I can bring tears to your eyes and resurrect the dead. I form in an instant and last a lifetime. What am I?”

This wasn’t a very hard riddle to figure out. “A memory. So what?”

Ed smiled knowingly. “You were humming this under your covers. I figure it has meaning for you.”

Oswald huffed, a part of himself impressed at Ed’s observational skills.“Every night when I was young, my mother would sing that song to me when I was going to bed.” Ed walked over, sitting down on the bed in front of Oswald. “And every time, she would tell me: ‘Oswald, don’t listen to the other children. You are handsome and clever, and someday you will be a great man.’” Oswald heard himself laughing quietly in the joy of the memory, and Ed smiling along with him. Though, his momentary happiness didn’t last long. “She said that every time. That’s all I have left now. Memories. And they’re like daggers in my heart.”

“Not forever.” Ed murmured. He reached over to the nightstand, picking up a pair of glasses similar to Ed’s own. "These were Ms.Kringle’s. It’s all I have left to remember her by. But when I look at these I don’t feel sadness anymore. I feel gratitude. And do you know why?”

“No, and I don’t care. This little visit is over.” Ed looked down as Oswald climbed out of bed. “I will just simply bid you adieu.” He turned on his heel, walking away from the bedside and Ed.

“Mr.Penguin-” Ed’s tone had darkened. Oswald looked to see Ed getting up from the bed, taking long strides to end up right in front of him. Ed’s eyes were determined and blade-like. “For some men, Love is a source of strength. But for you and I, it will always be our most crippling weakness.” Oswald analyzed his eyes, searching for a motive.

“Move aside, _Ed_ ,” Oswald spat.

“We are better off unencumbered.” Oswald heard himself gasp. Ed ominously looked down on Oswald, jaw clenched. For the first time since arrival, Oswald felt a pang of fear. It wasn’t out of sheer instinct this time, but rather he felt small enough to squash.

“What did you say?”

“You said it yourself. Your mother is dead because of your weakness. But what you need to realize is that your weakness was her.” There it was: that fear again. Oswald lunged for the table, grabbing the knife Ed had given him, and in moments, it was open and pressed against Ed’s throat. Oswald saw fear flash through Ed’s eyes, and suddenly, he was in control again.

“My mother was a saint!” Oswald cried, his body trembling with both emotion and adrenaline. Who the _hell_ did Ed think he was, bringing Oswald here, drugging him, and now insulting his mother? Ed should be dead for that. He’d killed for less. “The only person who truly cared about me and now she’s gone! And I have nothing left!”

Ed’s eyes were nervous and careful as he spoke. “A man with nothing that he loves… Is a man that cannot be bargained. A man that cannot be betrayed. A man who answers to no one but himself. And that is the man that I see before me. A free man.” Oswald felt his grip on the knife falter as he searched Ed’s sincere expression. He tried to say something, but alas, no sound came out of his gaping mouth. He broke Ed’s gaze as realization flooded over him, the knife pulling away from Ed’s neck. Ed reached up, carefully taking the knife away from Oswald and closing it. Oswald stood there, shaking, tears finally rolling down his cheeks.

There was something oddly tender about the way Ed spoke. His tone was no longer giddy, but now soft with lingering determination. “C’ mon. Let’s get you back to bed.” He took Oswald by the arm and led him back to the mattress. Oswald didn’t fight his grip, instead merely limping where Ed took him. He crawled back under the sheets, hugging himself as Ed threw the comforter back onto him. He felt the mattress dip as Ed sat on it.

Oswald could hear how he sounded, his whimpering pathetic as he tried to stifle his sobbing. Ed didn’t do or say anything as he sat there, and Oswald could feel Ed’s eyes on his back. Somehow, the feeling was somewhat comforting.

It was then that he heard Ed humming a familiar tune. Oswald’s heart experienced another ache and he sobbed into the pillow. But oddly enough, he didn’t want Ed to stop. The hurt was like a blanket around him, but something about Ed’s voice, reverberating in his throat as he hummed the tune his mother had sang every night before bed, seemed to soothe his aching joints. It was a lullaby after all. And it wasn’t long before Oswald’s crying died down and he felt himself sinking into the pillows and letting Ed’s voice wash over him. Ed really did have a beautiful singing voice, and with just enough effort, he could imagine it was his mother singing as he drifted off to sleep.

 

* * *

 

“For my mother looks over me~” The song ended in a harmony as Edward and Oswald cheered. But, given how many times they’d sung the song, they better be able to do it with flare. Oswald clapped his hands as Edward used chopsticks from the Chinese takeout they’d ordered to tap on their glasses. “The fire has gone out, with snow from above,”

Oswald stopped singing as Edward continued, “But nothing will warm me more, than my, my mother’s love-” Edward chuckled to himself as he looked up at Oswald.

Oswald grinned, expression darkening. “What happened to that gentleman you had tied up earlier?”

“Galavan’s lackey?” Edward felt a spike of excitement as he leaned on his hands. “Why do you ask?” Oswald’s smile answered any question Edward had at the moment.

 

Edward felt his heart pumping at an elevated rate as he heard the scraping of the chair’s legs on the floor. He beamed as he looked back at Oswald, hearing Mr.Leonard’s muffled screams for help. “My mother always said a party’s not a party without entertainment.”

 

Edward heard his blood pumping in his ears as he watched Oswald lightly trail the knife down the man’s shirt menacingly. He didn’t mean to cut him but instead, give a warning. Oswald ripped the bag off of the man’s head. Mr.Leonard was still gagged, his cheeks stained with tears. Oswald grinned as he lifted Leonard’s head with the blade. Edward shivered with excitement.

“My mother was beautiful, you know,” Oswald murmured. “How anyone would have the heart to hurt her is beyond me. Don’t take this personally. But what goes around-” Oswald quickly cut a sharp line in the man’s cheek. Leonard flinched, whimpering in pain. Edward was trembling at this point, unable to keep his breathing steady.

Edward quickly cut another line into the opposite cheek, leaving Leonard with two symmetrical streaks of blood rolling down his face. “Ed,” Oswald said, turning. Edward was shaken out of his fantasy as he looked up at the grinning Oswald. “You asked me for advice. Firstly-” Oswald turned back to Leonard

And, with a fell swoop, removed Leonard’s ear from the side of his head. He cried out in pain as blood began to shoot from the wound, the ear falling to the floor. “If the murder is out of passion or revenge, take the opportunity to give them a slow, painful death.” Oswald examined the blood on the knife. Edward nodded frantically, mentally taking notes.

Oswald frowned for a moment, looking over to Ed. “You know, now he’s all lopsided.” He held out the knife to Ed. “Would you like to balance him out?” Edward gaped for a moment, looking back and forth from Oswald to the knife and then to Leonard. After a moment, he eagerly took the knife from Oswald’s hand. His veins pumped with adrenaline.

“Thank you, Oswald,” he growled, before swinging his arm to slice off the other ear. Leonard howled, squirming in his chair. Edward turned to Oswald, finding it impossible to hold back a laughing fit.

After the ears, they took turns removing each of Leonard’s fingernails. They passed the knife back and forth, returning each other's sadistic grins. Yes, this is what he wanted. Here he was, working on a piece of artwork with The Penguin! Everything his so-called colleagues had called him, every jeer and hurtful comment- none of it mattered anymore! Even if they never knew, Edward did. He knew just how clever and powerful he really was. So let them call him names and laugh. After all, they didn’t know Edward. Not like Oswald did.

After the fingernails were removed, they began cutting lines into Leonard’s forearm. One after another, blood trails formed and were soaked up by the growing-crimson fabric of his shirt. The screeches of pain were getting quieter as Leonard’s vocal cords tore.

They must have done this for an hour when Oswald finally took the knife and dwindled on it for a moment. “Goodbye, Mr.Leonard,” he smirked before plunging it into Leonard’s heart. Leonard sunk into the chair as the life drained from his eyes. Edward’s face hurt from smiling so hard, as did his abdomen from laughing.

As Edward and Oswald made eye contact, he said breathlessly, “Thank you, Oswald.”

Oswald grinned. “Anytime, my friend.”

 

 

* * *

 

It had been months since Edward’s last interactions with Oswald Cobblepot at the GCPD following his arrest. Though it hurt, Edward knew he couldn’t visit Oswald in Arkham- it would raise unnecessary suspicion. All he could do was continue to go by Gertrud Kapelput’s grave, carefully setting down lilies whenever he did. Sometimes he would speak to her. Even though he didn’t know her, Oswald had described her as a kind and caring mother with a heart of gold. He would give his greetings and apologize on Oswald’s behalf that he couldn’t be there. Then, he would thank her for her time and be on his way.

Edward thought of sending letters to Oswald, but again, it would raise suspicion. It was the last thing he needed in his plan to best Jim Gordon and remain working at the GCPD.

Edward quickly hid the crowbar he had been examining when he heard a knock at his door. Edward didn’t get many visitors. Perhaps it was his landlord with a bill? Hopefully, no one that could suspect him.

That being said, he didn’t expect Oswald Cobblepot to show up at his front door, covered in tar and feathers.

“Hi,” greeted a beaming Penguin. Edward’s eyes widened as he returned the smile, genuinely excited to see his best, and only, friend.

“Penguin!” Edward exclaimed.

“Hi, hi.”

“Hi!”

“Sorry to intrude. I mean I’m… a bit of a mess. I was-was just passing by and-and…” Oswald peered over Ed’s shoulder into the apartment. “May I… can I come in? For a moment? These… feathers aren’t as warm as they look.”

“O-Of course, where are my manners! It-It’s so good to see you!” Edward stepped aside, holding the door open for Oswald who waddled inside.

“So how have you been, old friend? Well, I hope,” Oswald grinned happily, still shivering slightly.

“Yeah! Well! I’ve been busy, I’ve been really busy. How are you? I-I hear that you’ve been released.” Edward took a moment to examine the feathers and tar coating covering Oswald, motioning to them as he spoke. “What’s-What’s… What happened?”

“Oh, oh… Just good ol’ Butch and Tabitha having fun!” Edward’s smile fell as he examined Oswald’s face for sarcasm, only to find none. “They talked about killing me, so this was actually pretty nice of them, considering.”

“...Pretty nice of them?” Edward swallowed, suppressing a shiver. There was something greatly unnerving about the innocence in Oswald’s eyes. It was like staring at an empty canvas where something had once been painted. “They did a pretty good job on you in Arkham, huh?”

Oswald nodded. “I’m here to tell you, Ed, as a friend: violence and anger are not the answer.” Edward furrowed his brow as he looked Oswald up and down. “I am a changed man. Better. And you can change too.”

Edward put on a smile, though he knew he couldn’t suppress the sadness in his eyes.“Cool. Tempting offer. The thing is, the me I am right now is kinda hitting my stride.” Oswald smiled in response, nodding. “And I’m really grateful for all that you’ve taught me, that bad stuff you told me about Jim Gordon is really paying off.”

“Is it?” Oswald smiled in appreciation.

“It is. It’s helped me to create the perfect puzzle to help me get rid of my Jim Gordon dilemma.” Edward’s smile faded as he shifted uncomfortably in his skin. “Normally, I would love to share, but… to be honest, the new you is kinda freaking me out.” Oswald’s smile fell from his face.

 

“I’m just, really busy right now,” Edward said, practically shoving Oswald out the door.

“Well, I… I’ll be on my way,” Oswald agreed, that same plastic grin on his eager face.

“Thanks for coming by.” As Oswald walked out, Edward leaned on the door. He let out a sigh. His stomach was churning, making him more uneasy than the would have liked to admit. The illustrious, infamous Oswald Cobblepot had been reduced to an innocent pushover- it was like looking into a mirror of his own time at the GCPD.

What the hell had they done to him in Arkham? Clearly, it was drastic- perhaps torture or brainwashing? This couldn't have been an act in order to be deemed sane and released from Arkham. Oswald was a good liar, sure, but when Edward looked at the tiny, fragile man in front of him, he saw no trace of his friend. No trace of the Penguin.

He wanted to vomit as he imagined everything horrific that could have been done to Oswald to break him into whatever _this_ was. Before now, Edward could say he had seen Oswald in a deeply vulnerable place in his life, seeing the deepest parts of that dark, twisted, yet powerful soul. He had admired every aspect of Oswald, from his ability to tolerate a tremendous amount of pain near-flawlessly to his confident radiance. Looking at Oswald, being on the hostile side of his gaze, it was looking death directly in the face, a deer in the headlights.

Edward felt his skin crawl and tasted bile in his mouth as he realized, in horror, that _everything_ he admired about Oswald was gone. Left behind was the graceless reminder of everything he once was.

Edward stopped leaning on the door as he realized he was shaking. No, he couldn't think about this now. The whole Jim Gordon situation took all of his concentration. He didn't think he could bear to think about Oswald- or _whoever_ was left- right now.

 

* * *

 

“It’s a puzzle. The trick is opening it.” Edward stared down Oswald, shifting his gaze from him and down to the box he’d been given. Oswald was smiling, but it seemed genuine. Though it shared some resemblance to the smile that Oswald had when he’d showed up on his doorstep months ago, there was still clear darkness in his face. Edward swallowed hard, not allowing himself to relax. “The man at the store said it’s one of the most difficult ever made. People pass it down unsolved for generations.” Edward examined the box, turning it around in his hands as he pulled the pieces out of place. It was a box puzzle, something he’d done plenty before. The layout may have been different, but Edward was well aware of his own unique cleverness. “A mathematician once went mad trying to-” Oswald’s words were halted as Edward placed the box down, letting it fall open. Oswald stared, dumbfounded for a moment, before smiling back up at Edward. “Yes. Well, there you go!”

“It was a lovely thought,” Edward said quietly.

“And did you get the biscuits? And the sweater?” Edward remembered receiving the packages one by one. The first was a small biscuit box. Edward wondered at first who would have sent it, but soon acknowledged the stamp of an umbrella on the packaging. He’d stumbled backward, pushing the box aside. Clearly, this was a trap. After Edward had turned Oswald away in his time of need, there was no way that Oswald still regarded him kindly. He’d given the sweater the same treatment, though he would spend long, cold nights staring at it from his bed.

“I-I know how drafty these rooms are-”

“Mr.Penguin.”

“Oswald,” he corrected.

Edward swallowed. “When I think of how I treated you-”

Oswald raised a hand, flinching slightly. “Stop.”

Edward inhaled, trying to think of something to say. “... Why are you being so kind?”

Oswald hesitated for a moment, tongue playing on his teeth as he looked for the words. “...Talking to you, these past months… I don’t know how I would’ve gotten by otherwise. With Fish out there planning who knows what… Me being surrounded by morons and lunatics-”

Edward rolled his eyes, remembering the crazed screaming that he fell asleep to every night. “I know the feeling.”

Oswald glared down at the table. “Why didn’t she kill me when she had the chance?” He stammered. “I was powerless. She must have a larger goal. I-I need to know what she is doing.”

Now here was a puzzle. “Do you?” Oswald began to speak, but he halted at Edward’s response and searched his face. Edward knew exactly what to do. He took the wrapping paper that had accompanied the puzzle box, tearing it into a square shape. He had memorized the exact creases in his mind before. Whenever Arkham had allowed him access to paper, Edward had made origami, taking extra care every time he made a penguin.

“When Alexander encountered the Gordian knot, a knot so complex no one had ever been able to untangle it, he just removed his sword and cut it in two.” Edward chuckled. He knew this in a greater sense now, as it had been his downfall. He’d planned a great scheme for the demise of Jim Gordon when in reality, there were plenty of simpler solutions that Edward could have used. It’s what he spent most nights awake thinking about, after all.

“Details can be distracting. Sometimes… a simple solution is best. So no matter what she is planning, remember…” Edward, having finished his work, held the origami penguin in two fingers as he placed it down on the table in front of Oswald. Oswald stared at it for a moment, before smiling up at Edward. “Penguins. Eat. Fish.”

 

* * *

 

It was a particularly cold night in Arkham. Edward curled up under his sheets, wearing the forest-green sweater that Oswald had given him. It was clearly made of expensive material and, to Oswald’s credit, it kept him warm. After hours of pondering, thinking about complex riddles in his head while trying to drown out the screams of the insane, he began to succumb to his drowsiness. He had nearly fallen asleep when the alarms started blaring.

Edward scrambled upwards, clutching the sweater close to his chest. The lights were flashing red as a siren screamed in his ears. The turmoil had interrupted the dark, cold night. Edward could see his frantic breath as he ran to the door. He looked through the bars into the hallway, watching as nurses and doctors ran past him. Somewhere, he could have sworn he heard the echo of gunshots. He furrowed his brow as he looked back to the other side of the hallway.

Three men with large guns were walking his way. Edward’s heart stopped. The men wore pinstripe suits and ski masks, walking at a brisk pace. Clearly, they were the cause of the disturbance; but why they would want to make a scene at Arkham Asylum was beyond Edward.

They stopped when they reached his cell. Edward scrambled backward as the door was opened from the outside. The man in the middle was large and foreboding.

“Yep, this is the guy,” the man said. The two men on his sides grabbed Edward from the back of his cell, pulling him out by his arms. Edward’s heart rate skyrocketed as he made feeble attempts at avoiding their grips.

“Uh-! I-I’m terribly sorry, gentlemen, b-but I’m afraid you have me conf-confused with someone else, see, I couldn’t possibly have what you want-”

The man in the middle looked back at him as they began walking down the hallway. “Are you Edward Nygma?”

“Yes. N-No! I mean, maybe-”

The tall man chuckled darkly to himself as they dragged Edward down the hallway. Edward fidgeted nervously, trying to think of a way to escape. These men’s intentions didn’t seem so harmless, and given their weaponry, chances are survival should they be intent on murder were slim to none. The men outmatched him in brute force, he was aware of that. Then again, they didn’t seem to smart, so Edward may have the chance to distract them.

Before he could trick them, however, Edward was pulled into a dank stairwell and brought downwards. “Where are- Where are you taking me?”

“You’ll find out soon enough, green guy.” Edward looked down at the comment, relieved to see that he was still wearing Oswald’s sweater.

Soon enough, they exited the stairwell and out onto the side of the building. Heavy raindrops soon covered Edward’s face. He shivered as the rain quickly soaked through his sweater and his uniform. He was dragged to the gate, which had several more of the men in pinstripe suits lined up in front of black, nondescript trucks. Waiting outside the gate was a black car that stood out from the rest, one that would likely be more expensive. The tall man opened the back of the car and practically tossed Edward in. He then climbed into the front seat next to the driver. He rolled down his window, calling out:

“Alright, boys. We got ‘im. Move out.” The driver pulled away from Arkham, with the trucks of other men following close behind. The man in front pulled off his mask, revealing a tough-looking face. Edward stared out of the back window, watching them move down the road. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear police sirens.

The tall man in the front laughed. “Sorry to scare ya’. The name’s Butch Gilzean.” Edward furrowed his brow, adjusting his glasses.

“Ah, um- Yeah, I know who you are.” Oswald had told him all about Butch’s betrayal. “I’m, ah- Edward. Nygma.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know that. Penguin sent us to get you.”

Edward’s eyes widened. “Penguin…?” he murmured under his breath. Butch was once again working for Oswald? He found himself smiling. Penguin had broken him out of Arkham. And given his manpower, Oswald had obviously regained his seat as the king of Gotham’s underworld.

 

The car drove for about ten minutes, coming to a stop at the docks. The fog was so thick in the night that Edward couldn’t make out the mainland. Butch opened the car for the jittery Edward Nygma. There was another car waiting, a limousine. The back door opened, and who else would have hobbled out but Oswald Cobblepot himself. Oswald smiled warmly as he approached Ed, leaning on his beak-headed cane.

“Hello, old friend.”

“Oswald,” Edward grinned, suppressing a shiver as the cold began to bite him once more. “You broke me out of Arkham?” Oswald smiled to himself as he nodded.

“Yes, yes. I hope Butch didn’t give you too much trouble.”

Edward shook his head, noticing the man standing forebodingly beside him. “No, no. No trouble at all.”

Oswald looked over to Butch in approval. “Thank you, Butch. Come, Edward.” Oswald motioned for Edward to get into the backseat of the limousine. The seats were nice leather and Edward was quick to embrace the warmth inside of the car. As Oswald sat next to him, they regarded each other with excited grins.

“Get comfortable, my friend,” Oswald said. “We have a big night ahead of us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I am writing this, it is currently 1 am and I have school in the morning.  
> This took way too long to write. I promise there’s more actual original plot in the next chapter, but I just wanted to give a little more detail into their scenes together so I can call back on it later. And yes, up until the prison break, I did watch every one of Oswald and Ed’s scenes together to quote them word for word. I even made a point to count Ed’s “no”’s, because he apparently says ‘no’ more times consecutively than I remember.  
> I promise that the tags will come into play later. I'm not just bullshitting you guys.
> 
> If you like the way-too-long first chapter, please leave kudos or a comment. It’s the motivation that keeps me writing! Thanks, and gotham-bless you. :)


	2. Anything for You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps it takes almost losing something to realize how much it means to us.

It was funny, really, how even in a moment that seemed to exist in a bubble of time where everything moving in slow motion, Oswald’s mind was replaying the past months over again in his head a million miles a second. Yet, even as memories flowed like a river through his mind, his process of action was slow, like moving through molasses.

 

Ed had been slammed against the wall, Butch's hands around his neck. Strangling him.

 

Oswald had broken Ed out of Arkham, a task that, while certainly not easy, was more than worth the effort, if not just to see the look of wonder in his eyes as he entered Oswald’s limousine rain-drenched and wearing the sweater Oswald had sent him. He was glad to see his gift hadn't been wasted. 

 

The thing he remembered most about that night was the taste of champagne that they’d shared together once they returned to the manor. They talked about everything and nothing; underworld matters, how things were at Arkham, and of course, the  _ why  _ and  _ how  _ Oswald had managed the task of breaking Ed out of Arkham. They'd gotten tipsy, drinking long into the night before Oswald showed Ed where he would be staying, only to be met with a breathless  _ "Thank you, Oswald,"  _ that was sure to be forever burned into his memory.

 

Within days came a blissful domesticity. Ed helped Oswald gain full control over the broken underground. His methods, while not always clear nor conventional to Oswald, proved effective. Only a few weeks passed before Oswald had successfully become Gotham's absolute crime lord. 

 

With Edward, it quickly became a peaceful routine: a delicious breakfast together while discussing Oswald’s criminal empire, then work where Ed would hover over his shoulder informing him of smaller matters, and after a long day, dinner over a bottle of wine, then retiring to the couch to discuss further matters. It made Oswald’s dreadfully complicated life seem very… simple. 

 

But in a single moment, everything became complicated yet again. 

 

It had been Ed who had shown Oswald that there was a discrepancy in his income, and it was Ed who quickly discovered Butch to be the culprit. And again, it was Ed who managed to calm Oswald down from a fit of rage in order to discuss methods of dealing with once of Oswald’s most ‘loyal’ friends. 

 

Oswald only thought it fitting that Ed should be in their sitting room where they'd invited Butch in order to reveal to him just how badly he'd fucked up. 

 

It had happened in a flash after a particularly cutting remark that Ed had made (one that Oswald couldn’t help but laugh at). Butch had Zsasz’s gun to his head one moment. Then, Zsasz was knocked to the ground, and before Oswald could say anything, 

 

“Oswald, move,” and Oswald was shoved aside. Butch barreled into Ed, his giant hands quickly finding his throat as they both crashed into the mantle above the unlit fireplace. Ed’s face had gone red as he vainly struggled to escape from the goliath’s grasp. Oswald was staring, flat on his back when he was suddenly aware that he should be doing something. 

 

He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the pain in his bad leg even as it seared up his knee. To Oswald's horror, Ed’s eyes fluttered shut and his body went limp, but Butch’s grasp on his windpipe stayed firm, the back of Ed's purpling neck pressing into the mantle-

 

There was a vase on the mantle. 

 

Oswald swiped the vase from the marble mantelpiece, not thinking for a second if it would be wise to destroy what was quite possibly antique, and swung it firmly at Butch’s head without hesitation.

 

It shattered on contact, shining blue peices of glass flying every which way. Butch staggered backward before collapsing into a heap on the ground. Ed’s limp, ragdoll-like body fell forwards, landing with a painful-sounding thud when his stomach hit the hardwood. Oswald scrambled forwards. He quickly fell to his knees and turned Ed's lame body over, too worried about his well being to be gentle. His eyes were closed. He didn’t know whether Ed was breathing.

 

_ His mother stroked his cheek gently, as if completely oblivious to the knife that had pierced her back. Her eyes were so warm, even as Oswald’s tears landed on her face. “You were always such a good boy,” she cooed. Then, she went limp, her eyes going foggy and lifeless and her hand falling from his cheek. _

 

_ His father was twitching and spasming in Oswald’s arms, foaming at the mouth and face going a bright red, veins popping out of his forehead. “Stay with us father! Help is on the way!” Oswald had cried, praying to any god that existed that he wouldn’t be alone again; he couldn’t be alone again. But Oswald had never been one to pray. His father’s body finally stopped twitching, falling completely still and going limp in Oswald’s arms.  _

 

Ed’s body was still. The redness in his face was receding. “Ed!” He screamed, almost as if it would abruptly wake Ed up from a peaceful sleep.

 

_ Oh god please no not again please _

 

Then, Ed jerked in Oswald's arms, his eyes shot open as he gasped sharply. And all at once, Oswald’s heart began to beat again. Ed looked straight up at him with watery and bloodshot eyes, hands reaching up to where Oswald’s had landed on his face, curling firmly around his wrists.

 

And Ed smiled. He smiled in a way that was so terribly genuine that Oswald couldn’t help but smile back, even as he felt like bursting into tears because  _ oh my god he’s alive Ed’s alive. _ His body was warm and real under Oswald’s and he could feel Ed’s erratic heartbeat where his hand lay gripping his cheek.

 

The sound of shuffling broke Oswald from the spell. Zsasz had stood up looking frazzled and pissed. 

 

“Take him away! Make him wish for death!” Oswald screeched. Zsasz nodded quickly and began dragging the unconscious Butch from the den. Oswald was shaking.

 

“Os- Osw-” Ed coughed out from under him, voice hoarse and painful-sounding. Oswald jumped, quickly getting off of Ed, but still holding onto his shoulders to bring him to a sitting position.

 

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, don’t- don’t strain yourself. Here,” Oswald said in an attempt to be soothing as well as to keep himself from bursting into full sobs. Ed’s breath was ragged, and he nodded, following Oswald’s lead. Oswald pushed down his silent yet powerful desire to cradle Ed in his arms. 

 

Oswald hesitantly drew his hand back from Ed's face. “Do you need me to call an ambulance? I could arrange, I- I don’t-” Ed shook his head fervently. He opened his mouth to speak but broke into a violent coughing fit before he could get any words out. Oswald inhaled sharply and nodded. “Okay, okay, I won’t- I- I promise. Just- don’t try to talk,  _ please _ .” He was surprised how weak his own voice sounded. “Here, let’s-”

 

Oswald gently hoisted Ed up and led him to the couch, helping him settle into it gently. He was too worried to wonder whether the way he’d absentmindedly run a hand across Ed’s cheek was appropriate.

 

“Are- Are you alright here for a moment?” At this, Ed nodded, rubbing his throat with one hand. “Okay, okay, good- I’ll- I’m gonna go run you a bath.”

* * *

Oswald had recovered from more wounds than he could count. He’d been bullied so relentlessly as a kid and had eventually learned how to hide his injuries from his mother and tend to them himself, as to not upset her; she’d had enough on her plate. This had only become truer as he found his way into a life of organized crime, where you were either shooting or getting shot at.

 

His leg had been just another example of this: a wound he ignored until it healed, or in that specific case, came as close to healing as it would while he still insisted on walking on it. He’d been stabbed through the hand with a broach pin, beaten bloody by his employers, shot- he’d recovered from every one of his injuries, only needing help when an injury refused to heal into a mangled scar on its own. This, of course, is where Ed had come into play. Hell, Oswald had even recovered from significant mental trauma caused by Hugo Strange. To put it lightly, Oswald knew how to deal with damage.

 

But, for the life of him, he was clueless as to how to help Ed.

 

His mother had given him a bath when he was little and then dressed his wounds, so Oswald decided that he might as well try to help Ed that way, regardless of whether it would make any difference or not. How was someone supposed to fix a nearly-crushed esophagus without a doctor? Ed probably knew better what would help, yet Oswald had felt a strangely protective nature come over him. This was  _ his _ responsibility.

 

After all, it was his fault.

 

Oswald had insisted that Ed should be in the room when they revealed to Butch that they knew what he’d done before ordering Zsasz to blow his brains out. It was Ed who discovered what Butch had done, after all, so shouldn’t he get the recognition? Especially because the two of them were constantly at odds with one another, it only made sense that the deciding victory have both parties present. 

 

Oswald had known Butch was a danger, but it was his arrogance that almost got Ed, his best friend, killed. If he’d simply had Zsasz take that brainless gorilla out while foregoing all the flare, this wouldn't have happened. 

 

He did have an awful habit of being the reason for the people he cared for ended up dead. 

 

Oswald started as a high-pitched whistle interrupted his thoughts. The water for tea was done boiling. 

 

He had run a bath for Ed, giving him his father’s old robe to change into after he was done. Of course, Ed deserved only the best. When Ed was finished with his bath, Oswald told him to return to the couch by the fire, which he’d lit. 

 

Oswald poured the ginger tea. It was piping hot. The smell of the honey he put in sent him reeling back to his childhood, from when his mother would make this for him. He wasn’t sure if this would help after an attempted strangulation, given he’d only had this during periods of sickness during his youth. Nonetheless, perhaps tea could be therapeutic.

 

Maybe.

 

When Oswald walked into the room, Ed was sitting on the sofa and rubbing his throat uncomfortably. His hair was still damp from his bath, forming little curls at the ends. Oswald couldn’t help but notice the smell of soap (lavender?) as he entered. He approached carrying the teacup and saucer, feeling unreasonably nervous as he prepared to try and take care of him. 

 

“Here," Oswald said, holding out the saucer for Ed to take. "It’s ginger tea with honey. My mother’s remedy for a sore throat.” 

 

Ed reached out with slender fingers and took the saucer from Oswald's hand. “Thank you, Oswald.” Dammit, Ed’s grateful smile wasn’t making this whole situation any easier. 

 

As he brought the teacup to his lips and took a sip, Oswald sat down next to him on the couch and leaned in, taking a closer look at his neck. A bruise was already peeking from Ed's pale skin, a color palette of purple and green and yellow. Oswald's blood ran cold as if he couldn’t feel any worse.

 

“Are- are you sure you don’t need a doctor?”

 

“I’m fine," Ed replied hoarsely, though he punctuated his sentence with a hoarse cough that made Oswald’s stomach twinge with guilt. “I’m a wanted man, Oswald. I can’t- I don’t want to take that risk by going to a hospital.” Oswald opened his mouth to protest but decided against it. Ed looked too tired to have an argument tonight.

 

Oswald fidgeted with the cuffs of his sleeves, guilt sticking to the inside of his lungs like tar. “Ed, I-” He hesitated, the words hanging on his lips. “I’m so sorry, Ed.”

 

Ed turned, setting the cup and saucer on his lap. “For what?” His voice was soft and gentle, only accentuated by the way the firelight seemed to give him a halo.

 

“I never- I never should have brought you into this. I thought you deserved recognition for figuring out what Butch had done, so I wanted you there, but-” Oswald swallowed as his eyes flicked back to the bruise on Ed's neck, a gross muddle of color. A sick reminder of his failure to protect his friend. “But look at what happened. This is all my fault, Ed, and I’m sorry.”

 

“Oswald, please don’t-” Ed sat up but launched into a coughing fit, and Oswald resisted the urge to hold his shoulder as he recovered. Eventually, Ed regained his breath. “Please don’t apologize. You saved me. If it weren’t for you, I’d be dead. Besides," Ed looked up and grinned with that mischievous smile, "it was worth it. I got to see the look on that moron’s face.” Oswald nodded but wasn't convinced. Ed still could have died, and he couldn't get the idea of Ed dying on that floor, because of him , out of his head. He’d been resisting the urge to cry since, and it wasn’t any easier now.

 

Edward took a breath and the two met each other's gaze. His look was so genuine that it knocked the wind out of Oswald. "Oswald, I… I hope you know that I would do anything for you." His voice was soft and sincere. Oswald had never seen this look before. Ed looked so… "You can always count on me.”

 

For the first time in what felt like years, Oswald Cobblepot was speechless, left gaping as he lost himself in Ed’s eyes. His chest felt suddenly light, and he couldn't think of anything to say. What could he say? He was reeling from a few simple words, and he was suddenly cast adrift in unfamiliar but glistening waters, and he was suddenly unsure if drowning would be all that bad. The only thing he could manage was the feeling of gratitude welling up in his chest.

 

Finally, realizing that words might never come, he leaned forward, barely missing Ed's face as he pulled him into a tight embrace. Edward was warm against him and Oswald could hear his heartbeat. Even the feeling of Ed's chin digging into his shoulder was undeniably pleasant. “...thank you,” he sighed, losing himself in the feeling.

 

* * *

 

Eventually, the two retired upstairs. After multiple assurances that he was, indeed, fine, Oswald finally parted ways with him and made his way to his own room. For what felt like an eternity after he had gotten into bed, Oswald merely stared at the ceiling, clutching his comforter tightly and reliving the moment over and over again in his head. Even in memory, every syllable of Ed’s sentences were like music to his ears. His face was red and hot to the touch and a grin never escaped his lips, even after it started to hurt him. 

 

Edward Nygma would do anything for him. The only person who had ever shown Oswald that kind of devotion was his mother, and to a lesser degree his father, so hearing it from someone else made it feel like all the air had been sucked from the room around him. But somehow, he enjoyed that feeling of breathlessness. 

 

What had caused this reaction? Perhaps it was the smile on Edward’s face as he spoke or the warmth in Edward’s chocolate eyes. Oh, those eyes. Deep and endless, like looking up into a starry sky. The way they reflected the crackling fireplace revealed speckles of copper and gold in his irises. Ed really did have beautiful eyes, now that Oswald thought about it. They’d been the first thing he’d noticed about Edward even in their first encounter. Now, though, they were illuminated so differently. How had he not seen it before?

 

Oswald’s skin felt tingly as he remembered Ed’s arms around his body as if remembering where it had made contact. He had felt so very safe in that moment. Nothing could hurt him or Ed the way they were, locked in an embrace. And that was all that Oswald could ever want.

 

_“Life only gives you one true love, Oswald,”_ his mother’s familiar voice seemed to echo in his mind, coming from a deep corner that he’d long forgotten existed. _“When you find it, run to it.”_ So long ago when she had said that, it didn't make nearly as much sense as it did now. After all, he’d never gone on a single date his entire life, nor did he find himself wanting to. It all seemed so tedious. Someone like Oswald had far more important things to be doing, so why waste his time? 

 

Now, though, he knew the face that his mother must have thought of when she said that, and it put things into an entirely different light. He had finally gotten to meet his father, and if only for a short time, the face that his mother had fallen in love with so many years ago. He had been her true love, someone who his mother would never truly get over. She ran to him. 

 

So… could this be how Oswald felt about Ed? This was an entirely new feeling to him, something that, while scary, was also intoxicating. Yes, that was the word. Oswald felt drunk, drunk on Ed. 

 

Oswald traced his fingers over where the feeling of Edward’s touch still lingered. They’d been so close on the floor together. Inches away from kissing , and with Ed’s hand wrapped gingerly around his wrist.

 

Oswald felt what could only be compared to an electric volt running through his body. They could have kissed . He couldn’t help but imagine staring deep into those beautiful eyes of his, closing the distance, and… Ed’s lips must be so soft, he thought to himself. Oswald, wrapped in Ed’s strong, comforting arms and doing something as alien as kissing? Perhaps in another time, this thought would be completely outrageous to him. Now, though… the thought brought on feelings that couldn’t be described in any other word than elation. 

 

But… if this was love, then how could it ever be truly possible? It had been Ed himself who described love as a weakness, something that would be the downfall of men like them. No, the last thing Oswald wanted was to make Edward a weakness. If Edward’s words were to be believed, then… then how could he ever love Oswald? And maybe, maybe if he did, how could they ever be together like his mother and father had been? Like how Oswald wanted? A sharp pang hit him in the chest and his smile faltered.

 

But it had also been Ed who said that for some men, love could be a source of strength. And, in Oswald’s endeavors as well as in all other aspects of their relationship, Edward had been nothing but his greatest strength. Without Edward, Oswald would surely never have been able to regain his criminal empire as he had in the past, nor find a way to perfectly get the mayor under his thumb. Oswald was certainly resourceful, but Ed was the most valuable asset Oswald could have ever asked for. 

 

Maybe, then, this was a sign. Maybe they were each other's strengths rather than their weaknesses. Perhaps in some regards, they were not as strong as individuals, but together, they had proven themselves to be unstoppable. Then, just maybe, they were destined for one another. Fate had planned for them to be with each other. What if they were made to be together? To be in love? 

 

Oswald practically beamed as he imagined it. Oswald Cobblepot and Edward Nygma, the two strongest men in Gotham, together romantically. Imagine what they could do together. They would be untouchable, the true kings of Gotham in their rightful thrones, making anyone who ever dared belittle them pay dearly. 

 

_ I cannot be bought, but I can be stolen with a glance. I am worthless to one but priceless to two. What am I? _

 

“Love,” Oswald whispered to himself, a wave of bliss crashing over him. “I’m in love,” he laughed quietly, unable to keep himself from releasing all of the joy that had built itself up in his body. “I’m in love with Edward Nygma.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATE: Edited and cleaned up.  
> it's been almost a year but I FINALLY got around to posting ch2  
> that actually totally has everything to do with the fact that I just saw one person had commented on CH1 46 days ago and it gave me so much motivation so THANK YOU SO MUCH  
> Seriously, PLEASE comment SOMETHING, it gives me so much energy and motivation to write and I have a lot of ideas for this story. So I beg of you, just acknowledge that I'm writing in the comments and I will love you forever.
> 
> Also, Cory Michael Smith had NO RIGHT to look that handsome during the couch scene. Oswald is very gay for this string bean and you know what? I can relate


	3. A Scarecrow, a Hatter, and a Penguin walk into a mill...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world's worst setup to a joke.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: Vivid depictions of child abuse. Discretion is advised.

Oswald wasn’t at breakfast that morning.

 

Ed had gotten up at his usual 5:30 in the morning, taking a thorough shower and styling his hair the way Oswald had taught him. Once he was done, he went to the wardrobe and picked out something to wear. Looking through his closet, he picked a somewhat flashy green suit. Under normal circumstances, this would be a bit too much, but because of the still-present bruise on his neck that he’d received roughly 6.5 days ago, he wanted something to catch the eye other than that.

 

As he dressed, he replayed Oswald’s schedule for the day: 8a.m, check on the development of a downtown lounge that Oswald had invested in. 9a.m, reform hiring policies (as Oswald made it clear he wouldn’t tolerate anyone quite as incompetent as Butch to be hired ever again), and similarly, 11am, go to Zsasz’s little workshop and see how he was doing. To Edward’s delight, Oswald had promised that Ed would get to have some fun with him before he was buried six feet under.

 

Feeling particularly excited about the day, Edward strode down the steps of the manor and to the dining room, only to find that Oswald wasn’t there, only an empty table with a few plates of food made buffet-style. This wasn’t immediately concerning, of course. Sometimes Oswald did need a little extra help to get out of bed, but Ed swore he saw that Oswald’s door was cracked open just a tad, which usually meant he’d gone down to breakfast already.

   

Ed left to go check on him as Olga brought a delicious-smelling plate of eggs and toast to the table.

   

He’d been correct in his observation that Oswald had left his bedroom door opened just a crack. Ed approached it, wrapping his fingers around the handle. “Oswald?” He said, not loudly, but loud enough to ensure that Oswald would hear it. To his dismay, he got no response. He cleared his throat and called out for Oswald, only to be met with silence again. Ed pushed open the door, hoping that if Oswald was in there, this wouldn’t be too major of a violation of privacy.

   

Immediately, he was hit with the familiar scent of Oswald as well as bright morning sun peeking in through the windows. The room itself looked trapped in time; the bedsheets were messy and had clearly been slept in the night before. His clothing from yesterday was still laying in a messy heap on the floor instead of in a bin, which meant Oswald had come home too tired to put them away. Olga hadn’t been in there to clean, which she usually did after Oswald came down for breakfast.

   

The door to the bathroom was cracked open as well, the light off. So, Oswald wouldn’t be in there. Ed swallowed, walking further into the room to examine it. Nothing seemed particularly out-of-place; it was just the right amount of messy for Oswald. Nothing pointed to him having left his room in the first place besides the open door. It was eerily quiet, something that was particularly unnerving: 'quiet' isn't how most people would describe the Penguin.

 

Ed suffocated in this unsettling silence until the faint sound of a phone ringing- Ed’s phone- came from Ed’s room. Snapped out of his habitual scanning of the room, he rushed back to his own. His phone was plugged in on the nightstand and buzzing. On the little screen, next to the ‘calling’ icon, was Oswald’s name. Sighing in relief, Ed grabbed the phone and flicked it open with a click, putting it to his ear.

 

“Oswald! Thank goodness, I thought-”

   

“Hello there, friend!” an unfamiliar voice greeted merrily from the other end of the line. Ed swallowed hard, his heart dropping down into his stomach.

   

“Who is this?” he asked darkly. 

 

The man chuckled. “Oh, no one important… though, perhaps you’ve heard of me? My name is Jervis Tetch. Pleasure to meet you, Mr.Nygma.” Ed swallowed hard. Yes, he did know about Jervis Tetch. After all, it was Ed’s job to keep tabs on possible threats to Oswald’s power, and when Barbara had ranted endlessly to Oswald about a man that hypnotized her almost instantly, humiliating her in front of the guests at her own club, well, Ed was sure to take note of that. Barbara was a particularly headstrong individual, so getting into her brain’s folds didn’t seem all that easy a task.

 

Then, thanks to their informants at the GCPD, they’d heard all about his sister with the toxic blood, as well as his quest to find her, only to result in her death. Several people were hypnotized and subsequently killed. Ed was quick to make a file about him, as a man like _that_ was not to be taken lightly.

 

“Where’s Oswald?” Ed was already mapping out all of Tetch’s reasons for having something to do with Oswald’s absence, but to Ed’s knowledge, they’d never met.

 

The man laughed again in a way that made Ed’s blood run cold. “Not one for formalities, are we? Well, no matter; I was getting to that anyway.” There was the sound of shuffling. Then, a familiar voice, somewhat muted by Tetch’s apparent distance from him:

 

_“Let me go! I swear to you, I’ll hang you up by your esophagus if you-”_

 

There was no mistaking that familiar voice, as well as his tendency to use more graphic threats. Ed inhaled sharply, his worst assumptions proven true. “What do you want with him?”

 

“We’ll get to that soon enough. What you need to do is to come find us. We have some… negotiations to work through.”

 

Ed clenched his teeth. “And if I refuse?” Of course, Ed had no intention of _not_ going. He needed to test the waters. Tetch knew who he was, which had to be for a reason. It was a puzzle. 

 

“Well, then,” Tetch’s voice grew darker, “we’ll see if this little penguin knows how to fly.” Then, a burst of maniacal laughter that lasted several seconds. “Come alone, unarmed. We’re at the abandoned steel depot on the river facing east. I trust you know where that is?”

 

Ed swallowed hard, steeling his resolve. “I’ll be there.” Then, the line went dead. 

_I guess breakfast will go cold._

 

* * *

 

It wasn't the best idea to abide by the "no weapons" rule, but Ed knew it was risky. Tetch was crazy, and it wasn't too far out-of-character for him to kill his bargaining chip.

 

He mentally slapped himself as he got into Oswald's car for not noticing something amiss. He'd escorted Oswald to his room last night as his leg was being particularly bothersome, seen Oswald enter, and he hadn't heard any noises in the night or in the morning. Ed was particularly observant, how did he not notice anything?

 

He silently cursed at the other cars along the way. He now understood what Oswald meant by "Gotham Drivers". 

 

The old steel mill wasn't hard to find. It was abandoned, the sides covered in a thick layer of rust, so much that Ed couldn't quite tell what the original color of the building was. Vines of ivy and, pleasantly wisteria, crawled up the walls of the building in a way that Ed found aesthetically pleasing. After all, he did have a preference for the color green. He parked on the side of the building by a door that was falling off of its hinges. It was the only way he could see into the mill. 

 

He pulled open the door, careful to not cut himself on the sharp and rusty edges. 

 

The interior smelled thickly, unsurprisingly, of metal, as well as a sour scent that he couldn't quite identify. It was dark with the only light shining through the murky windows that were warped with age. For some reason, it reminded him inexplicably of the filthiness of Arkham. 

 

It was then that a figure lunged from the darkness and before Ed could move, the edge of a blade met his throat. He gasped loudly as he felt the presence of the figure behind him, breathing hoarsely. There was a scythe at his neck and Ed could just barely see his own reflection peeking up from the further edge.

   

“Mr.Nygma,” growled the man in a groggy, haunting voice, leaning over Edward’s shoulder. “We’ve been expecting you.”

   

“Where is he?” Ed swallowed, hyper-aware of the blade against his throat. The scythe pressed closer to his neck, stinging as it cut ever so lightly into his skin. Edward swallowed a wave of panic as he kept his composure.

   

“Start walking. I’ll be taking you to him,” the man said. Edward felt a hand on his back pushing him forwards, never taking the scythe off of his neck. Hesitantly, Edward stepped forward along with his commands.

   

They descended further into the warehouse. Ed began to feel the cold biting his skin as he walked, careful not to end up slicing his own throat with the scythe blade that hovered mere inches in front of him. White light peered through the occasional window, making the hallway appear black and white. The sound of the two’s footsteps echoed forever though the corridor, the only sound besides the man’s hoarse breathing.

   

Eventually, the hand tugged Edward back as the figure behind him stopped walking. Looking to his left, Edward saw an open door to a storage room. “In,” the man murmured, and he didn’t have to ask twice. The scythe was removed from in front of him as he walked into the room, the man wielding it tailing just behind. Ed looked at him from over his shoulder now that he got the chance. The man was draped in a baggy cloth resembling a potato sack. He resembled a… Scarecrow.

 

Ed knew who this was, too; Jonathan Crane. He’d been on the case when the boy’s father began scaring and killing people in order to make a concoction that would help him face his own fears. The whole ‘scarecrow’ motif made the boy hard to forget. He’d truly fallen into his father’s footsteps.

 

As they continued to walk into the room, it didn’t take long for Ed to notice the light emanating from just beyond the shelves to his right. As he came to their end and turned, he saw two figures illuminated in the light of a stray bulb, flickering lazily. In the chair was Oswald, a gag in his mouth and looking visibly dishevelled. He was still dressed in his pajamas. His torso was tied the chair with his hands bound behind him. Standing next to the chair was none other than Jervis Tetch, dressed in his formal garb, addressing Edward smugly.

   

“Ah, Mr.Nygma. How lovely of you to join us.” Edward saw a look of fear run across Oswald’s face as he noticed Edward. He jerked against his restraints suddenly, glaring up at Tetch with eyes like daggers. Scarecrow stood just behind Edward, his intimidating posture looming constantly over him.

   

“Mr.Tetch,” Edward noted, mind already racing as to how to release Oswald from his restraints. The scythe was sharp enough to cut them, though that would mean taking it from Scarecrow, and he was overpowered. Taking him by surprise would be the safest option. A jab to the abdomen would be the best bet, but the angle at which Scarecrow was holding the scythe meant that he could quickly use it against Edward before he could take it for himself. He would have to wait for the opportune moment when they didn’t see Edward as a threat.

   

“I would offer you a seat, but unfortunately, you won’t be staying long. If that were the case, I would’ve prepared some tea.”

   

“Let him go,” Edward demanded, staring Tetch dead in the eye. He couldn’t help but notice the look in Oswald’s eyes- somewhere between admiration and worry. It was similar to the way Oswald had looked at him after he regained consciousness after the Butch incident. Tetch chuckled softly.

   

“Not a very nice greeting, considering we generously offered you a place in our little gathering. But rudeness aside, we do have a point to make.” Tetch pulled the gag from Oswald’s mouth. As the gag was removed, Oswald snapped at Tetch’s hand, nearly landing a solid bite.

   

“Don’t touch him,” Oswald spat through his teeth, looking significantly more panicked than when Ed had first walked into the room "or I swear, I'll send you crying to wherever the fuck your sister ended up-"

   

Ed cleared his throat, trying to keep calm. “Oswald, are you-”

 

“You shouldn’t be here, Ed,” Oswald pleaded. The anger in Oswald’s face melted away as he looked at Edward. “You have to go. _Please_.” Edward’s chest ached a little at the break in Oswald’s voice when he spoke.

   

Tetch grabbed Oswald by the jaw and forced his head up to look at him. “Oh, how heartwarming,” he hummed, smirking predatorily. “Mr.Crane,”

   

Scarecrow suddenly jerked Ed’s head back and forced his scythe against Ed’s neck once more, his hand clasping Edward’s mouth. Oswald flinched, attempting to throw himself out of his chair. “Don’t-!”

   

“I will admit the formidability of your mental walls. But you see, Mr.Penguin, everyone has their weakness. And we’re so lucky as to have found yours.”

 

Rage boiled up in Oswald’s expression. “If you hurt him, so help me, I’ll mount your head on top of that scythe.”

 

Tetch laughed again. “Ah, yes. Well, what we do depends entirely on the choice that you make.” He looked over to Crane, gesturing vaguely. At that, Ed felt the scythe cut into his skin, but only just barely. He hissed at the sting, muffled by Crane’s gloved hand. He could feel the trickle of blood down his neck only to be absorbed by his shirt, now likely stained crimson. A vein was popping out of Oswald’s forehead.

 

“If you give us what we want, your little Eddie will go free without an out-of-place hair on his head. But-” Tetch strolled over to Crane and Ed, placing a cold hand on Ed’s shoulder. Ed wanted to recoil, but doing so in this position would cause him to unintentionally slit his own throat. “-if you keep being so stubborn, well, we’ll have to resort to more… _harsh_ methods.”

 

Oswald clenched his teeth, eyes flicking back and forth in deliberation. “I- you-” he stared at Ed’s neck and where the scythe was barely piercing skin.

 

Ed shouted, the sound almost completely muffled by Crane's hand, but hopefully it was enough to get the point across to Oswald: _No._ Whatever they wanted, it wasn't worth the risk. Oswald's eyes widened, seemingly in understanding, but the look of confliction on his face only intensified. 

 

Oswald's mouth snapped shut and he glared up at Tetch in defiance. "I won't give you anything," he growled, more weakly than usual, eyes flicking back to Ed as he spoke.

 

Tetch sighed dramatically, hand draped over his forehead in mock-despair. Then, he snapped back up with a neutral face. "Very well," he hummed. "I was hoping we'd get to have some fun, anyway. Mr.Crane, if you would, please."

 

The hand around Ed's mouth released, giving Ed a chance to breathe properly. Crane moved around behind him, and before he could say anything to Oswald, the sound of something abruptly spraying made him gasp. A bitter, stinging taste filled his lungs as the scythe fell away, leaving him standing without any restraint. He coughed hard, the substance tickling his throat. The edges of his vision became white and a feeling of lightheadedness quickly set in. 

 

"Ed?" Oswald asked, but it all sounded muffled and warped.

 

"Os- Oswald, are- are you-" he coughed, trying to regain his breath. When his eyes stopped watering and he looked up, however, he wasn't in the steel mill anymore. 

 

_A stained carpet floor and water-damaged wallpaper, the whole house singed with the smell of cigarette smoke. It was dark, the only light coming from the television in the living room. The sound was a sort of static that could be heard at the edges of each news reporter's words. What they said didn't matter so much; all he could hear was the static buzz._

 

Ed jerked back. He was standing in a hallway- _the_ hallway, looking into where it joined the living room. 

 

_The chair was old and worn with an ugly floral pattern, smelling pungently of cheap beer thanks to the man sitting in it._

 

No, no, no, no, no- this wasn't happening, he couldn't be back here. All the sudden he tasted bile in his throat.

 

_"EDDIE!" A guttural shout that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. "Grab me another beer!"_

 

Ed stood, frozen, gaping- it couldn't be him. He vowed to never ever see this place again, and yet here he was. 

 

_"Eddie!" He yelled again. "Can't you fuckin' listen, boy? Get me another beer," and everything was static again. His back stung with old wounds that he swore would never see the light of day again, old cigarette burns that seemed to boil against his skin and broken ribs that were aching after more than a decade._

 

_The man in the chair stood up with difficulty, revealing a familiar pot-belly and an unshaven face, a man in his late 30's dressed in a tank-top (appropriately titled a wife-beater), boxers and an old robe that smelled worse than him. "Stupid fuckin' boy, can't even-"_

 

_His bloodshot eyes found Ed's, and suddenly everything was still as a deep terror built up in his gut. His immediate reaction was to freeze because if he ran he'd be sleeping in the basement._

 

_"There you are. Are you deaf as well as stupid, huh?" The man lumbered forwards, so much taller than Ed was, and finally Ed had the wherewithal to scramble backwards and away from him. His legs weren't working quite right and he tripped, falling back onto the rough carpet with a loud thud._

 

_"Don't you know to come when I call? Haven't I taught you enough lessons? Useless little shit-" he grumbled, and Ed couldn't move, even as he clawed at the ground in an attempt to get away. He tried to scream, but nothing came out of his mouth except for an impish little squeak. Pathetic._

 

_A hard foot came down on his stomach sending a deep, aching pain radiating throughout his torso. He wheezed, rolling over onto his belly and hugging his knees to his chest in a futile attempt to decent himself. Then, the sound of a belt snapping-_

 

_Lacerations like hellfire stung across his back, lines that were bleeding anew with each crack of the belt. He screamed, writhing as the carpet scratched like sandpaper against his skin. "Stupid little idiot, good-for-nothing cheater…" his father bellowed, the lashings not letting up for a second._

 

_Laughter. Ed looked up through tears, the pain not ebbing for a moment, instead getting worse. An array of officers from the GCPD stood at the end of the hallway where the shelves and phone hung, pointing and laughing at him in the most stereotypical schoolboy-type way. Bullock was at the front, Gordon, Essen, Barnes, Dr.Thompkins, all of them behind him-_

 

 _"Betcha he tells riddles to the kadavers. Maybe then they'd make more sense," Bullock jeered. They all laughed uproariously like it was the funniest joke ever told. Like_ he _was the funniest joke they'd ever heard. "Freak."_

 

_Ed let out a sob, the pain of all of it too much to bear. It stung particularly deep  as he looked at Jim and Lee, two people he used to respect more than anyone else. People who used to be his friends. "Freak," they laughed._

 

 _Ed rolled onto his back, shielding himself from the endless stream of oncoming blows. But as he did, he found that it wasn't his father looking down at him with disdain; it was Oswald. The beatings stopped abruptly, but his back was still radiating pain. He opened his mouth to speak, relief flooding his system because_ Oswald was here, Oswald would help him, _but Oswald tilted his head with a bored expression._

 

 _"Am I supposed to care who you are?" He said casually. Ed's words died in his throat. Then, Oswald turned and began hobbling leisurely down the hallway. Ed opened his mouth to yell, to plead for help, but no sound reached his lips and he was left gasping for air. Oswald sunk into the darkness of the hallway and the static became louder. The sound of laughter grew louder with it, the constant mocking: freak, freak, freak, freak. Static buzzing in his eardrums and the wounds on his back stung, it was_ **_agonizing,_ ** _and everyone was circling around him, laughing, taunting, and kicking him in the ribs-_

 

 _And then finally,_ finally, _everything sunk into a peaceful darkness._

 

* * *

 

When Ed woke up his ears were ringing. The concrete was icy against his cheek and his glasses were pressed uncomfortably against the bridge of his nose. For a moment, everything was completely still. It was peaceful in a morbid sense. 

 

_Oswald._

 

Ed jumped up, wincing at the pain in his chest; though lying with your stomach on the concrete will do that. It was freezing and goosebumps dotted his arms. He was alone in the room he'd been dragged into by Crane, only the light was off and the chair was empty. The only light in the room was coming in through a crack in the door. It was an orange light, evident of an evening. How long had it been? 

 

Standing up, he hurriedly pushed open the door, only to be met with a similarly empty corridor. Nothing. 

 

"Oh, dear," he murmured, stomach churning. But at least it was quiet.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooooh we're getting to the good shit, boyyyyyyyyyys  
> Os is so preciously in love and it's adorable.  
> I'll edit and re-format it later, but I'm really excited about this rn so deal with it and suffer  
> 2 chapters in less than a week, suck it writer's block, I'm motivatedddd
> 
> If you like it, please leave Kudos and/or comments, it helps give me motivation to write. Also, if you have any constructive criticism, I want to hear it!


	4. Down the Rabbit Hole We Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oswald makes a sacrifice and Ed deals with the aftermath of Crane's fear toxin.

Oswald had no idea where the hell he was. 

 

He’d been in bed. The sound of shuffling could be heard in his room. Before he could grab the knife he had under his pillow in his groggy state, he’d felt something sharp poke into his neck, and everything went black. 

 

He woke up tied to a chair. A single lightbulb flickered above his head, reminding him a bit of the GCPD interrogation room. There was someone else in the room. A man with long, curly hair and a top hat, dressed in a plaid three-piece suit. He was sitting in a far-more comfortable looking chair, drinking tea from a cup and saucer. 

 

Oswald shifted, which seemed to have grabbed the man’s attention. “Ah, Mr.Cobblepot,” he exclaimed, setting the saucer and cup down on the armrest of his chair and making his way over to where Oswald was sitting.

 

“Who are you?” Oswald growled, a familiar sense of self-preservation beginning to set in. The man smiled widely. 

 

“The name’s Jervis Tetch. It’s lovely to make your acquaintance,” he said in a jolly tone, doing a little bow in front of Oswald.

 

“I know about you,” Oswald growled. He remembered that months ago when Ed had been informed of a mad hypnotist running around, he was quite excited to tell Oswald. Something about the ‘way he invaded people’s minds’ seemed to fascinate him. To Oswald, however, the very idea was unsettling. He’d have to thank Ed later; at least he knew what to expect now.

 

Tetch clapped his hands excitedly. “I’m so very glad! That means we can get all the formalities out of the way.” He grinned sadistically, reaching into his coat pocket. 

 

 _“He uses a pocket watch,”_ Ed had told him. Sure enough, in Tetch’s hands, was an ornate golden pocket watch. It clicked open, beginning to tick. Tetch approached him with a devious grin, leaning in uncomfortably close and holding the pocket watch next to Oswald's face.

 

“Now,” he began, “look into-”

 

Oswald spat right into Tetch’s face. Tetch flinched and reeled back with a flabbergasted expression. Oswald smirked at the disbelieving expression.

 

“Fuck you,” he sneered, leaning forwards towards Tetch. 

 

“Why, you-” Suddenly, a figure swooped in from the darkness in what could only be described as a flash. A blade suddenly pressed to Oswald’s neck, a presence behind him breathing hoarsely into his ear. Oswald gasped, craning his neck upwards in a feeble attempt to get away from the blade.

 

“Not a very wise decision, Mr.Penguin,” the man rasped out from behind him. Oswald bit his tongue. Tetch regained his composure, though he couldn’t disguise the look of anger behind his eyes. Oswald couldn’t help but find it a little entertaining.

 

“I’ve seen bad manners, my friend,” Tetch chirped in mock-politeness, “but you take the cake. We invite you to a lovely little gathering, and you reject our kindness. Deplorable.” He made his way back over to Oswald, holding up the pocket watch once more. “Let’s try this again, shall we?”

 

Oswald swallowed hard at the feeling of the blade on his throat. Shit, this would be a difficult situation. So-

 

“The fire has gone out with snow from above, but nothing will warm me more than my, my mother’s love~” Oswald sang loudly enough so that he couldn’t hear the ticking of the clock. Really, there wasn’t any reason he chose that particular song, but there was something very comforting about hearing it now.

 

“You- you little-” Tetch growled over Oswald, who was still singing loudly. He snapped the pocket watch shut.

 

“Crane, can’t you- can’t you just scare him? Make him complacent?” His fists were clenched till they were white. The man behind Oswald stepped back, removing the blade.

 

“Not how that works,” came a response from ‘Crane’. Tetch was red with anger, and this response only seemed to make it worse. He lunged at Oswald, grabbing his face uncomfortably. 

 

“You don’t seem to realize the trouble you’re in, my feathered friend. The consequences are steep, and I swear, I have no qualms with torture should you keep resisting.”

 

Oswald simply smiled in response. “Bite me.” Tetch’s eyes widened for a moment as if to say, ‘the audacity,’ but then came a bone-chilling smile as he gently let Oswald’s chin go. He stepped back. 

 

“Mr.Crane,” he said with an alarmingly calm voice. “I think it’s time for plan B.”

 

“The failsafe? How do you know that will work? Why not just torture him?” The man asked, stepping closer to Tetch. Oswald could now see him properly. He was dressed in strange rags, resembling a scarecrow.

 

Tetch chuckled darkly. “Oh, trust me, my friend,” he smiled. “It _will_ be torture.”

 

Despite what Tetch had said, he’d simply walked out of the room, leaving Oswald alone with Crane. He circled Oswald like a bird of prey, studying him in a way that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Despite his demeanor, Oswald was nervous. He’d been tied to a chair, interrogated, tortured, almost so much to a point where he was used to it.

 

But for some reason, this felt different. Maybe it was the fact that he was sure both of the men who had seemingly captured him were insane.

 

Oswald jumped at the sound of Crane speaking to him in a voice that was akin to a fire, crackling and dangerous. “I wonder,” he croaked, tilting his head like an owl, “what you’re most afraid of.”

 

Oswald grinned humorlessly. “I can assure you, it’s not a delusional psychopath and a man dressed in a potato sack.” Crane didn’t react to this, drawing closer to Oswald and studying his eyes.

 

“You’re a man notorious for being able to get back anything you lose. Except for those you care about. First your mother and father. Now it would seem that you don’t have anything to lose that you wouldn’t be able to get back,” he hissed, beginning to circle him yet again.

 

“Congratulations,” Oswald sneered, “You’ve done your research. Bravo. Is there a point to this?”

 

He heard Crane chuckle in a way that made his blood run cold. “Mr.Tetch, however, has a theory. Maybe you do have something to lose, or more accurately,” he dipped down next to Oswald’s ear. “ _Someone_ to lose.”

 

Oswald’s heart dropped down to his stomach. _Fuck._ Ed was in danger now, too. He took a deep breath, trying to maintain his calm facade that was quickly crumbling around him. “Let me go,” Oswald growled, his blood beginning to pump faster. “I swear to you, I’ll hang you up by your esophagus if you touch him. Then I’ll show you _fear_.” 

 

Crane gave no response, instead, fading back into the darkness around the edges of the room.

 

It felt like an eternity before Tetch re-entered the room with a smirk on his face. “Crane,” he said. “We have a guest coming. Please make sure to greet him when he comes to the door.”

 

_Dammit, not Ed, not Ed, not Ed-_

 

“You’re a coward, Tetch.” Despite his best efforts, his voice still sounded strained as he spoke, like he was verging on cracking, and really, he was. “Fight your own battles. I thought you more decent than that.”

 

“And I thought you more polite than you turned out to be. Now we’re both disappointed.” Crane slinked out of the room, his movements stealthy and snake-like. It was then that Oswald noticed a cloth rag in Tetch’s hand as he approached. 

 

He leaped forwards, planting a fist in Oswald’s gut. Oswald felt the wind knocked out of him as a deep soreness radiated throughout his stomach, and as he went to gasp for air, he felt the rag be placed between his teeth and tied around the back of his head. It was a gag. Oswald made a move to protest, only to find his words muffled.

 

“Just to make sure you don’t speak out of turn,” Tetch whispered into his ear. Oswald’s skin prickled uncomfortably at the feeling, though it was easily overpowered by the throbbing pain in his gut.

 

It was only a few minutes before Oswald perked up to the sound of echoing footsteps down the corridor. They drew closer, and to Oswald’s horror, a disheveled-looking Ed was led into the room with Crane’s scythe pressed to his neck.

 

“Ah, Mr.Nygma,” Tetch said merrily, “how lovely of you to join us.” Oswald made a fruitless attempt to escape from his bonds because _oh god no they have Ed._

 

Ed met Oswald’s eyes. For a moment, he saw a flicker of fear, before returning to a cold, analyzing gaze. “Mr.Tetch.”

 

“I would offer you a seat, but unfortunately, you won’t be staying long. If that were the case, I would have prepared some tea.”

 

Ed furrowed his brow. “Let him go,” he said stoically, and Oswald’s lovesick heart fluttered. Ed was _so_ brave.

 

Tetch shook his head. “Not a very nice greeting, considering we generously offered you a place in our little gathering. But rudeness aside, we do have a point to make.” He reached down and untied Oswald’s gag. The second his teeth were free, he snapped forwards and bit, only narrowly missing Tetch’s hand.

 

“Don’t touch him,” Oswald snarled, “or I swear, I’ll send you crying to where ever the fuck your sister ended up-”

 

Ed cleared his throat, meeting Oswald’s eyes once more. “Oswald, are you-”

 

“You shouldn’t be here, Ed,” Oswald pleaded, his heart pounding because dammit, the man he loved was brought into this and god knows what those psychopaths would do to him now. “You have to go. _Please_.”

 

Tetch abruptly jerked down and grabbed Oswald by the jaw. “Oh, how heartwarming. Mr.Crane.”

 

He heard Ed inhale sharply. Oswald's head snapped to him and Crane; Crane had covered his mouth and a fresh bead of blood had trickled down Ed's pale neck from where the scythe had dug into the pink skin. 

 

“Don’t-!” Oswald flinched. He felt himself shaking as his mind suddenly conjured up an image of that scythe slicing through Ed's jugular, leaving him to fall to the floor and bleed out before a helpless Oswald. Or worse, maybe Tetch would let him run to Ed's side and hold him as the life drained from his eyes, just as he'd cradled everyone else he'd ever loved as they died.

 

He didn’t care about the tears pricking his eyes that must have looked pathetic.

 

Tetch lowered his voice. “I will admit the formidability of your mental walls. But you see, Mr.Penguin, everyone has their weakness. And we’re so lucky as to have found yours.”

 

Oswald felt his blood boil. “If you hurt him, so help me, I’ll mount your head on top of that scythe.”

 

Tetch chuckled, letting go of Oswald’s chin. “Ah, yes. Well, what we do depends entirely on the choice that you make.” Ed flinched, the scythe digging into his skin a little more. Oswald was sure that he’d have a heart attack before Tetch could do anything to him.

 

“If you give us what we want, your little Eddie will go free without an out-of-place hair on his head. But-” He strode over to Ed and Crane, placing a hand on _his_ Ed’s shoulder. “-if you keep being so stubborn, well, we’ll have to resort to more… _harsh_ methods.”

 

Of course, this had to be an ultimatum. “I- You-” Oswald stuttered, feeling all at once lost. His thinking was slow like molasses, but his heart was beating so fast that he could feel it behind his eyes. If he were to give up his free will, it was essentially a death sentence, but _Ed-_

 

Oswald was startled by a shout that came from Ed, muffled by Crane’s gloved hand. Meeting his eyes, Oswald saw a look of pure determination. He knew what it meant. Oswald took a deep breath and steeled his resolve, preparing himself for the worst. "I won't give you anything," he said, though it sounded more like a squeak than anything else.

 

Tetch sighed dramatically. "Very well," he hummed. "I was hoping we'd get to have some fun, anyway. Mr.Crane, if you would, please."

 

In what looked to Oswald like a flash, Crane had pulled something out of his robes and put it to Ed’s face, spraying a yellowish gas into his face before retracting the scythe. Ed stumbled forwards, coughing up the substance with watery eyes.

 

This couldn’t be good. "Ed?” 

 

Ed seemed to regain his balance, his wheezing and coughing seeming to peter out. "Os- Oswald, are- are you-" Having finally caught his breath, Ed opened his eyes to look back at Tetch and Oswald. But everything stilled, and Ed was gawking at a place above Oswald’s head. “... _no_.” Ed gasped, his pupils suddenly dilated. Oswald saw a look on Ed’s face that he’d never seen before: horror.

 

Ed jumped and practically tripped over himself moving backward, seemingly moving away from something that Oswald couldn’t see.  Ed’s voice was panicked and high-pitched, pleading, “No, no, no, no, no- this isn’t- you can’t-”

 

Oswald tried again to escape his restraints. “Ed?”

 

“Get away from me!” Ed shrieked, falling backward onto the floor with a painful-sounding thud and shielding himself with his arms. His body was shaking as he scrambled backward like he was lying on a floor of ice. “Please!”

 

Oswald felt like his heart was being twisted in his chest as he watched helplessly. He’d never seen Ed like this and watching as a bystander was a kind of pain that he could only compare to seeing his mother locked up in Galavan’s makeshift prison. “Ed, it’s not real. Look at me!” he begged, vainly hoping that through whatever he was being shown, he would see Oswald.

 

Ed’s body spasmed, as if he’d received a blow, and he let out a violent cry. Tears were suddenly streaming down his cheeks. “Don’t hurt me, please, I- I’ll be good, I promise-”

 

Oswald thought he might break the skin on his wrists from fighting his restraints so hard. He called out to an unresponsive Ed, who was uttering a constant stream of _stop_ and _please_ and _don’t hurt me._

 

Crane seemingly materialized from the shadows, swooping in like a raven and grabbing a fistful of Ed’s hair. He yanked it, dragging Ed forwards to Tetch and Oswald. Ed let out a pained sob but didn’t make a move to get away.

 

Ed was pulled to the foot of Oswald’s chair where Crane jerked him to his knees. Upon closer look, Ed’s eyes were glassy and faraway, gleaming with tears behind crooked glasses as they looked straight through Oswald. Before he knew it, Oswald felt a tear run down his own cheek, watching the usually composed Edward being torn apart at the seams. 

 

Tetch grinned sadistically. That’s when Crane, quick and sharp, landed a blow to Ed’s cheek. He yelped, his body shaking violently as he broke out into full sobs. “I’m sorry, I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry-” he wailed, his voice broken.

 

Oswald had enough. “Fine!” He yelled in surrender, “I’ll do whatever you want. Just stop- stop hurting him. _Please_.”

 

Tetch circled around Oswald, coming to stand beside Crane. “See? Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

 

“Please, h-help me, I don’t… I’m not- I’m not a f-f-freak, I...” Ed whimpered, a bruise beginning at his reddened cheek.

 

“Ed…” The only thing he wanted to do was hold Edward and kiss him endlessly, promising that everything would be alright and that he was protected from his invisible assailant. Instead, both were completely helpless. Oswald had lost; he’d given in to their demands, essentially sentencing himself to whatever they pleased. 

 

But Oswald couldn’t stop imagining a scenario similar to where he’d been tortured in Arkham: a broken, hollow Ed, torn apart at the seams and stitched together with new threads, and Oswald felt himself wanting to throw up. He realized he would give absolutely anything for that not to happen, whether that be his free will, his empire…

 

...his life.

 

Yes, he would give up his life in a heartbeat for Ed’s sake. And as terrifying as that was, he looked at Ed, and it seemed a small price to pay. So he would let Tetch hypnotize him, as well as take anything else he wanted from Oswald, happily, because _this_ was love.

 

Oswald took shuddering breaths in an attempt to compose himself. “I let you hypnotize me, and you won’t hurt him.”

 

Tetch smirked, nodding. “Now you’ve got the picture.” Crane released his hold on Ed, who crumpled to the floor in a heap.

 

“It’ll wear off eventually,” Crane said, slowly twisting his head to look at Oswald. Oswald looked back down to Ed, who had folded in on himself in a fetal position, whimpering quietly. 

 

"Edward, it's…" Perhaps it was pointless to try and communicate with Ed while he was in this state. For some reason, though, it made Oswald feel a little better. He inhaled sharply, his voice weak. He was crying now, too. God, how had his mother sounded when she consoled him after a nightmare? "It's going- it’s going to be okay, I promise. I won't let _anything_ happen to you, I- I swear." Again, Ed was unresponsive.

 

Oswald clenched his teeth and forced himself to look up at Tetch. _Great job,_ he thought to himself. _This is the stupidest decision you've ever made._ It was all for Ed, though, so what did it matter whether it was the smartest thing he could have done? Love wasn't rational, after all. 

 

Oswald was broken from his thoughts by the click of a pocket watch. Tetch was smiling smugly, holding it in front of Oswald's face. For a moment, Oswald's eyes went back to Ed, who was trembling quietly. 

 

_I love you so much. Please be safe._

 

"Now," Tetch began, "listen to the ticking of my watch." Oswald did as he was told, even though the sensible part of his mind was screaming at him to fight it. "Notice how it becomes _one_ with your heartbeat." Oddly enough, Oswald found, it was. They shared the same rhythm- no, that wasn't it. His heartbeat _was_ the ticking of the clock, a sound that seemed to overwhelm his mind. 

 

"Now look into my eyes." Oswald's gaze flicked from the stopwatch to meet the dark eyes of Tetch. They seemed to suck him in, to eclipse the outer corners of his vision. "Not around them, not above them, but _deep_ into their center." 

 

 _Deep._ Oswald was falling, suddenly- the darkness was pulling him in. It was oddly pleasant, though -- his muscles relaxed and the nagging voices of self-preservation seemed to fall to the background, leaving only the _tick-tick-tick_ of the clock. 

 

It didn't matter, he wasn't in danger. Who would be? What did Oswald need to care about besides Tetch's booming voice and the all-encompassing eyes and the ticking of the clock? What did he have to hold onto? Every second all those pesky worries were falling away, leaving only a sense of relaxation and security, and he was only falling, deeper,

 

Deeper.

 

 _Deeper_.

 

* * *

 

Ed practically stumbled out of the warehouse lost and alone, feeling like he’d just been hit by a bus. It’s one thing to know that you’ll have to face your demons eventually, to dread it, to have nightmares constantly no matter how far away it all seems. It’s another thing to be catapulted back into your past with no warning. If he’d eaten breakfast that morning, he was sure it would have been thrown back up.

 

He knew what had happened. He knew what had been used on him. After all, he’d been there to study the Crane formula when it had been created. The premise was simple: activate the fear receptors in a person’s brain, causing them to hallucinate their worst fears both visually and auditorily. However, it had been theorized that the toxin could affect people’s smell, touch, and to a surprising degree, taste. At least now it was confirmed. 

 

He’d been able to smell the alcohol and cigarettes on his ‘father’s’ breath. He could taste blood in his mouth when he’d been kicked square in the ribs. Ed would be incredibly fascinated if it weren’t for the fact that the simple thought of it made him feel sick.

 

As he walked, he was terribly aware of how his old scars rubbed uncomfortably against the fabric of his shirt.

 

There were no signs of Crane, Tetch, or Oswald in the warehouse. In fact, had he not known any better, Ed would’ve thought that no one had been in it for a long, long time. It was a smart move to hold up here; he’d have to keep this place in mind.

 

The car he’d arrived in was still there. It had clearly been several hours since he’d entered, as the sun was setting over the river. From the looks of it, it was about 5 or 6 o’clock. It was quiet except for the sound of seagulls, saltwater splashing against the edge of the warehouse’s docks, and the distant hum of traffic.

 

_Dammit._

 

He walked to his car with weak knees, climbing in almost robotically as his mind tried and failed to wrap his head around everything that was going on. He had no clue where Oswald was. That was the trouble with people like Tetch and Crane: they were completely unpredictable psychopaths with very few known allies. Really, they could be anywhere, putting Oswald through God-knows-what. 

 

 _"Am I supposed to care who you are?"_ Ed winced as ‘Oswald’s’ words played again in his mind. It was surprisingly painful, even though nothing truly terrible had been happening. Hell, Oswald hadn’t even been doing anything. But the look of disinterest in his eyes, similar to that of their first encounter: it was different now after everything they’d been through. As if it all meant nothing. 

 

Ed swallowed hard and put his keys into the ignition. That didn’t matter. He had to find Oswald before anything worse happened.

 

Ed arrived back at the estate, receiving a scolding from Olga in Russian. Unsurprisingly, Oswald hadn’t returned to the manor. Ed rushed to his office feeling like he was a shark: stop moving and perish. Keep going, even if you don’t know where to, just move.

 

He made some calls. No one had seen Oswald or had any knowledge of where Tetch and Crane could possibly be. He was running on fumes, he hadn’t eaten- this was his top priority. Everything could go on the backburner.

 

Oswald was counting on him. He couldn’t let him down, not now; he’d already let them get away with Oswald before. He had to prove he was useful, that he was worth caring about and depending on. That he was anything but useless.

 

Now, though, he wasn’t so sure.

 

* * *

 

 _Everything was illuminated in a rosy hue, the air thick enough to swallow. It smelled like cologne._ Good _cologne._

 

_There was a figure on stage, his back facing Ed. He was wearing a tuxedo, his hair slicked back and neat, hip cocked out confidently to the side. The sound of a vinyl scratching picked up, and everything around him crackled like a reel._

 

_The figure spun on his heel to face Ed, and it took a moment to recognize the face he was looking at. Slick hair and pale, piercing eyes. His lips were very… pink. Plush, almost. There was more color in his face than usual. It was Oswald. Ed shifted, feeling his skin heat up._

 

_“He’s fierce in my dreams, seizing my guts,” Oswald began to sing, staring at Ed with an intensity that made him shiver. His voice was smooth and sweet, like chocolate. He held a tophat to his chest, white-gloved fingers stroking it in a way that couldn’t be described under any other word than… suggestive._

 

_“He floats with a dread, soaked in soul-” Oswald’s eyelashes fluttered and his tongue ran across his top lip, and Ed couldn’t help but shiver let out a soft sigh. When had it gotten so hot in here? Ed recognized the song- an Amy Winehouse song- but he couldn’t think of the name right now._

 

_“He swims in my eyes by the bed,” Oh lord, the way he sang ‘bed’ sent a thrill right up his spine._

 

_Almost unintentionally, he lets out a soft, “Oswald,” and shifts in his chair. When had he sat down in a chair? It was a red velvety surface, incredibly soft-_

 

_Oswald stepped down off of the stage that Ed hadn’t even noticed he’d been standing on. Ed’s heart was pounding out of his chest and butterflies had made a home in his stomach as Oswald approached. “Pour myself over him, moon spilling in~”_

 

_Oswald reached where Ed was sitting, and Ed couldn’t breathe. Oswald leaned down and took Ed’s tie gently, pulling him in. Ed was entranced, Oswald’s eyes drew him in and his head was spinning, god, he felt drunk, the urge to simply melt into the touch was overwhelming._

 

_“And I wake up-” he could feel Oswald’s hot breath against his lips and Ed couldn’t help letting out a soft moan at the sensation. “Alone,” he sings softly, caressing Ed’s face tenderly._

 

_“Edward,” Oswald hummed, and Ed couldn’t take it, he leaned up to kiss him, and-_

 

Ed jerked awake, the redness of the room dismissing in a flash, leaving him in a room- his office, having fallen asleep at his desk after hours of thinking and no progress. He felt hot and sweaty, and his trousers were uncomfortably tight. What time was it?

 

He sat up abruptly and adjusted his tie. No, no, no time for whatever that was, he had to-

 

He felt a sly smile creep up his lips involuntarily, a smile that wasn’t his own. Then, laughter. _“This is_ too _good.”_ Ed knew what this was. It was how the other him appeared at the beginning, simply speaking out of his mouth rather than manifesting as a product of his subconsciousness.

 

Ed scowled. “What do you want?”

 

 _“Really, nothing in particular,”_ the voice said casually, _“I’m just here to enjoy the show.”_

 

Ed swallowed down his annoyance. “I don’t need you.”

 

_“We both know that’s not true.”_

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

The voice was softer, like how one would talk to a child. _“You’ve been sitting around doing nothing but having a little pity party for hours. Do you know what we could have been doing in that span of time? Making progress as to where he is.”_

 

“I’m trying my hardest,” Ed rebutted, aggressively adjusting his cuffs. “I’ve just been through something particularly traumatic.”

 

 _“As if all that stuff you saw was anything new.”_ The nonchalant way that his double talked about his particularly traumatic childhood made Ed’s blood boil. ” _We got used to dear old dad’s beatings, remember?”_

 

 _“And”_ Ed snarled, “it’s been years since I’ve had to deal with it. The formula was to induce vivid hallucinations of one’s worst fear. Crane must’ve known the effect that the toxin would have over the longer-term. He’s deliberately trying to slow my progress. It’s… Haunting. It’s hard to think properly with all those memories fresh in my brain. You know that.”

 

 _“So that’s what we’re calling it?”_ His double replied snidely. Ed stayed silent. The double laughed with Ed’s mouth again. _“‘Long-term effects’. That’s what we’re calling that little dream you just had?”_

 

Ed flushed bright red. “I- You-”

 

_“Oh, please. Don’t try to hide all that from me, Eddie-boy. We’re one in the same. I saw that little fantasy of… whatever the hell you’d call that._

 

Ed’s teeth clenched and his face felt hot. “I- I don’t want to talk about- about that. It’s irrelevant.”

 

Suddenly, he was laughing, deep and guttural. _“Oh my God, irrelevant? Hah! That’s an excuse for the books.”_

 

Ed clamped a hand over his mouth until the laughing stopped. “I’m saying that it doesn’t mean anything. I’m- I’m under a lot of stress. I’m not in the right state of mind.”

 

 _“There’s no doubt about that,”_ the other-him said, the laughter dying, _“I mean, thinking that Oswald would ever wanna make out with you.”_

 

“I-” That claim, while it made sense, felt oddly hurtful. Ed adjusted himself in his seat. “I meant that under normal circumstances, I- I wouldn’t have a dream about that.”

 

A sneer crept up his lips. _“That’s not quite true either. You’ve had those dreams before, just less vivid. Ones that you simply dismiss and go back to bed. You’ve just never had someone calling you out on your B-S before.”_ The other Edward made a good point, even if he’d never admit it. He’d had dreams like that before, ranging from a picture of domesticity to very _compromising_ situations. Even when he’d woken up flustered, he’d managed to fall back asleep and dismiss it as nothing but a figment of his imagination.

 

It was different, though, when said aloud. Even the thought of his quite indulgent dream sent an unconscious shiver down his spine. 

 

It didn’t have to mean anything. It _shouldn’t_ have to mean anything. Oswald was his best friend, someone he respected and admired- none of these little things meant he felt more. They couldn’t.

 

_“You use me again and again, the reply to a question when don’t want to know the answer then. But when I run out, you’re left empty. What am I?”_

 

“I’m not- I’m not in denial of anything!” Ed shouted into the room, almost shaking. With what, he didn’t know- anger? No, anger didn’t feel like the right word.

 _“I wonder, is it because you know that someone like Oswald would never want you, or is it because-”_ The words stopped coming out of his mouth, and instead, he felt them being whispered into his ear- _“you know how wanting someone ended in flames the first time.”_

 

“SHUT UP!” Ed screamed, jumping out of his seat to yell at the empty room. But to his surprise, the apparition of his doppelganger wasn’t there, nor could he feel that presence looming over him.

 

He was completely alone; just him and an aching feeling in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES, I know the riddle was shitty but I couldn't find one that worked so I made one up myself.  
> I really honest to god hope y'all hate me for this chapter. It was definitely a lot of fun to write, because as a Tumblr post told me, "Your characters are like geodes. In order to find out what they're really made of, you must break them." And boy howdy, did I break our boys this time.  
> Oswald is SO in love with Ed and it's my favorite thing. The word "lovesick" really does describe him.  
> Also, in the next chapter, things kick up some more notches. Let's just say that Jervis Tetch is basically acting as my outlet.  
> As always, please leave kudos and/or a comment. It gives me so much motivation to continue writing. Seriously, the comments from the last few chapters gave me so much inspiration, and I've gotten three chapters up in the span of two weeks. I love y'all so much. <3 Gotham-bless you!


	5. The Bishop, The King, and the One Who Plays the Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jervis Tetch knows all the things that Edward doesn't. 
> 
> I refuse to apologize in advance.

Ed had always been invisible.

 

He’d fantasized about it constantly as a child, a fantasy where he had the power of invisibility and he could hide from his father when he was at his worst. Plus, he could get silent revenge on all of his schoolyard tormentors. Of course, he wasn’t _literally_ invisible, even as he wished more than anything that he was. 

 

Ed was invisible, but not in the literal sense. Everyone saw the physical Edward Nashton, a little boy with cracked glasses and unexplained bruises and an obsessive need to learn and to prove himself. They saw the little boy who would dissect roadkill outside of the school during recess. His bullies saw an easy little target. His father saw a good-for-nothing little cheater who deserved a beating to keep him out of trouble.  He was the most invisible to his mother, but then again, his mother was invisible to him, too.

 

Ed was far from the product of a happy home. He wasn’t a little white-collared child with a loving family, a dog, and a trust fund. In place of a white picket fence, he’d been given one out of chain-link and barbed wire.

 

Many people had mothers who cooked delicious dinners, ones who made brown-bagged lunches with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with crusts that had to be cut a certain way. Those people had mothers who would kiss their child on the head at bedtime, maybe even read them a book and sing them a lullaby.

 

Ed didn’t have that.

 

His mother wasn’t around much. Normally, she was working late shifts at her many jobs, burning the midnight oil and coming back home after his father had left for work in the morning. Ed couldn’t blame her, even if he did feel a tingling sense of bitterness in his stomach at the sight of her. Working was an excuse for her to get away from her husband, and most times, Ed wished he could have gone with her.

 

And then there was his father: a cold-hearted man with a rage like hellfire. To him, Ed was a horrible burden, a good-for-nothing idiot child. His father was also an alcoholic, and Ed suspected he more than likely abused drugs. That really wasn’t the only thing he abused. He was unforgiving, solving his many issues by beating his only son: a scrawny little nerd with knobbly knees and a fascination with facts and riddles.

 

For a long time, Ed thought that he could win his father’s approval by being smart, by achieving high marks in the academic realm. He’d felt so proud that day he won the 2nd grade science fair, running home with his little model of the solar system with a big gap-toothed grin on his face, looking excitedly through his cracked glasses. _This is the day,_ he’d thought to himself. _This is the day when dad says that he’s proud of me._

 

But it wasn’t. If anything, it only turned out to make things worse. His father had slapped him hard across the face, his solar system model crashing down and breaking when it hit the floor beside Ed. “Cheater!” his father had screamed, pummeling him harder than he’d ever been hit in his life. His glasses were broken.

 

Ed couldn’t put the pieces of his model back together. Every planet was completely destroyed, except for tiny little Pluto. Yes, Ed knew that Pluto wasn’t a planet, but he somehow felt bad for it. After all, it just wanted to be a planet. The tiny little paper mache ball had a large crack down the middle. Still, it hadn’t broken.

 

 _Maybe,_ Ed had thought _, I’m just not trying hard enough._ _I just have to do better, and then, he’ll understand. Dad will be proud of me and the beatings will stop and everything will be okay._

 

So he tried. He would make the trek from school to the library every day after his classes had finished, reading almost the entire children’s section over time before moving onto adult works. The librarian was nice to him, so he would tell her facts, all beginning with, ‘did you know that…’ She seemed to like them.

 

Ed would do all his homework the moment he got it, he would ask a million questions to the teacher about what they were learning, and he even memorized his times' tables. Somehow, though, things never got any better.

 

Ed was invisible in the sense that people only saw what was on the outside. 

 

They saw the little boy with broken glasses, the little boy who only wanted to win, the boy with a target on his back, a disappointment. But they didn’t see the little boy who would stay up light under his covers with a flashlight, designing puzzles and mazes on paper with crayons. They didn’t see the boy who would spend hours in the library, telling the bookkeeper all kinds of interesting facts, and they certainly didn’t see the boy who knew he was smart, who knew he was capable of great things.

 

So maybe, Ed had thought at the time, they would see someone new. They would see Edward Nygma. 

 

But they didn’t.

 

It was quickly a routine for Ed to come into work at the GCPD and be completely ignored. The only exception to this was when he would stand uncomfortably close to someone and talk to get their attention. Then, they’d call him a creep. When he wasn’t invisible, he was a freak.

 

Kristen Kringle had been very polite and kind during their first interaction, which was likely the reason Ed had become so quickly attached to her. However, that welcoming kindness hadn’t lasted very long. Every gesture of affection was thrown away and every grasp at her attention was seen as unwarranted and strange.

 

That was the reason he held a level of respect for James Gordon and Dr. Lee Thompkins. Jim had answered his riddles, occasionally humoring him enough for a somewhat interesting conversation.  Lee had been the most kind to him, giving him praise and encouragement, and even inviting him to little social gatherings. 

 

Look how all of that turned out.

 

Oswald, however, was the exception. He’d always seen Ed. In their first meeting, he’d looked up at Ed out of a crowd of police officers, even if it was with annoyance. Then, when he’d brought Oswald back to his apartment, Oswald had recognized him. Soon enough, Ed had found his first real friend.

 

He had visited Ed at Arkham, even when Ed had treated him so poorly and pushed him away. Hell, he’d even broken him out of Arkham to offer him a position as his second-in-command. For the first time ever, he felt wanted and important. Oswald offered him praise in a way that was unique to just them (he was partial to ‘dapper’).

 

He’d finally gotten that respect that he’d always wanted, both from Oswald and his underlings. It was therapeutic, really, when Butch found out that it had been Ed who had discovered his betrayal of Oswald. He had been seen, and while it was far from pleasant, he had been deemed important enough to try and kill.

 

So, of course, everything had to fall apart on him. It was a poetic tragedy: nothing good in his life could ever stay that way for long.

 

Ed had underestimated how hard running the underworld would be. Yes, as Oswald’s second-in-command, he’d kept track of all the little details, the numbers, the records, and all of it seemed to be manageable. Perhaps when you’re standing next to a throne, being the monarch appeared easy. But perhaps having someone there to help made a world of difference.

 

Oswald had been missing for just over six days, and it was Ed’s job as second in command to take the helm until they could find him. He hadn’t slept in literal days, spending his time frantically organizing parties of Oswald’s employment to look for him or Tetch. He did all this while managing all of Oswald’s underworldly management, and even for a mind like Ed’s, it began to grow taxing. 

 

Ed figured that a man dressed in 1800’s attire and a literal scarecrow would be at least somewhat easy to find. So far, however, no progress had been made, so Ed was busy turning every stone in Gotham over.

 

Of course, his anxieties only got worse as hours passed, due both in part to the memories of the fear toxin as well as his fear for Oswald’s wellbeing. He started seeing something out of the corner of his eye, accompanied by a laugh that could only have belonged to his other half, constantly taunting his lack of progress.

 

 _“Dude, you look like hell.”_ Ed jumped at the familiar voice, spinning around only to find his mirror-image smirking at him and leaning against his desk. Ed absentmindedly fixed his tie. He turned away from the apparition, swallowing hard and making an attempt to return his thoughts to the whereabouts of Tetch and Oswald. Tetch had found a warehouse to hide out in, and his only known ally was Crane, who didn’t have anywhere to go, either, so he must have-

 

_“Are you going to, I don’t know… shower? Take a quick power nap? When was the last time you brushed your teeth?”_

 

Ed inhaled deeply through his nose. He’d already sent people searching in all the abandoned factories and warehouses nearby to where they’d been before, only to turn up with nothing. He had to have a permanent setup somewhere, a place where he could return to in order to gather his assets. It was just a matter of-

 

_“‘It’s just a matter of finding it’, yes, we get it. You’ve had that little hunch for the past… Three days? Four? It’s hard to keep track when you’re burning both ends of the candle.”_

 

Ed hissed. “Unless you have anything substantial to add, I suggest you keep your mouth shut. You’re not helping, you know.”

 

His double tilted his head coyly. _“I thought some commentary might bring some levity to the situation.”_ Ed ignored this, closing his eyes shut tight and trying to find his train of thought. He had to find Oswald, he had to-

 

 _“What are you going to do?”_ This time, the other Ed took on a much more sinister, mocking tone. _“Do you think they’ve killed him already? I bet they’ve killed him already.”_

 

“Stop,” Ed barked, his chest tightening at the thought. 

 

 _“I bet they started at the fingernails, the way Oswald taught you to do. Oh, can you imagine it?”_ Then, to Ed’s horror, the voice changed to something hauntingly familiar. _“Ed! Oh god, please, someone help me! Edward, help me!”_ It was using Oswald’s voice, crying out in a way that made his blood run cold. Ed held his breath in an effort to keep himself composed as his double laughed at him.

 

Ed dug his nails into his palm, refusing to react to the imitation. “You don’t want him to- to die,” Ed noted, his voice growing increasingly strained as he turned to finally face his double. “I know you don’t, because I don’t.”

 

The other-him smirked, tilting his head playfully. _“See? You finally get it.”_

 

“Then I don’t-” Ed’s voice cracked. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this.”

 

His double’s smile faded to a glare, eyes seeming to bore into Ed’s soul. _“I’ve been trying to help you. You just refuse to listen.”_

 

Ed clenched his teeth, face flaming with anger. “How is what you’re doing _helping_? You’ve done nothing but make things worse. I hesitate to even call your comments ‘contributions’.” The double stood from his leaning position and walked slowly over to Ed, who considered backing away before he realized the uselessness. The other Ed was staring daggers into him.

 

 _“You’re in denial, Eddie,”_ he growled, and Ed felt a shiver run up his spine. _“It’s an awful habit of yours. You refuse to see things the way they are, and just like I did before, I’m trying to show you the truth.”_

 

Ed inhaled sharply as his double spoke with such a sharpness that Ed feared he’d cut himself on if he wasn’t careful. “And-” he swallowed, trying not to sound pathetic. “-and what is that? ‘The truth’?”

 

The other Ed smiled with shark-like teeth, leaning in to whisper in Ed’s ear. _“I cannot be bought, but,”_ he chuckled, _“I can be stolen with a glance. I’m worthless to one but priceless to two, what am I?”_

 

The words felt like a physical blow. “W-what do-” But the other-him had vanished into thin air, leaving him alone once more. The air felt suffocating. _Love._ The word somehow sounded like a swear, a curse that he was forbidden from saying, but he didn’t know why. _Love._ It sounded so strange. The truth? 

 

As if that made anything any clearer.

 

Ed was snapped from his dazed confusion by a buzzing. He whipped around, eyes landing on his cell phone which he’d placed on his desk. He practically bolted over to it, clicking it open frantically. He’d received a text that came from Oswald’s phone.

 

**_Hi ho there, Mr.Nygma. Sorry to be so out-of-touch. But we’re waiting for you now! Come alone: 3rd and 11th between Downtown and Uptown... See you soon! ;)_ **

 

**_Love, Tetch_ **

 

* * *

 

Ed decided on bringing a gun this time, as Tetch’s instructions hadn’t forbidden it. The address led him to an abandoned apartment complex in the narrows, just as run-down and old as everything else. The whole area smelled like rust and garbage. 

 

At the complex, the entrance from the alleyway and down to the basement was opened recently, the chains that were presumably on it before laying down beside it having cut open with wire cutters. He decided to start by going down that way. He descended the dank cement stairwell and downwards to a rusty door, gun at the ready. Taking a breath, he pushed open the hard metal which made a creak in protest.

 

The disconnect from the stairwell to the interior of the basement was shocking. The room was well lit with what must have been antique lanterns, illuminating the ugly floral wallpaper on all sides. Perpendicular to him was a large, ornate dining table with silver lining mahogany, dressed with a lacy white tablecloth. Teacups and saucers had been laid out neatly and Ed could smell tea faintly in the air.

 

Against the back of the wall furthest from the door was a large array of screens, displaying nothing but static. There were 14 screens in total,  varying in size and quality, mashed together haphazardly to create a single amalgamation.

 

Around the room were an assortment large children’s toys, including an unusually big teddy bear, several rocking chairs, an ominous-looking cradle, and a miniature carousel. It was like a demented children’s nursery from the early 20th century.

 

As Ed walked further into the room, the screens flickered with color, revealing to him the silhouette of a face. He stepped around the dining table and in front of the screens, speakers on either side of them humming to life. The figure glitched and blurred before revealing an all-too-familiar smile. “Hello, Mr.Nygma! How lovely it is for you to join us. We’ve been anxiously awaiting your arrival!” Tetch exclaimed, clapping his hands together excitedly.

 

Ed tightened his grip on the gun, the copies of Tetch all staring at him with an uncomfortable sort of delight. “Where is Oswald?”

 

Tetch tutted, shaking his head back and forth with a mocking frown. “Now, now, my lean, green friend, as much as I appreciate your enthusiasm, I’m afraid you’ll just have to be patient. We’re getting to that,” he cooed, his voice muffled by the hissing of the static.

 

“This isn’t a game, Tetch.” The screens flickered.

 

“Oh, ho, ho, but isn’t it? I thought a man who is so fascinated by riddles would enjoy a good game.”  
  


Ed clenched his teeth. “Oswald is more powerful than you think, and I promise you, when he gets out, he’ll make sure you regret being born.” That was, of course, only if he could make sure Oswald got out alive.

 

Tetch sneered, his lips curling into a Cheshire-like grin as he rubbed his hands together. “On the contrary, our dear little birdie is quite excited about this particular game. Speaking of whom,”

 

The sound of a loud clang drew Ed’s attention to the other side of the room. A door had slammed open against the wall, and standing in the doorway was a figure dressed in a neat formal suit and a black masquerade mask with a pointy beak for a nose, raven hair slicked back. “Oswald!” Ed couldn’t help but shout, chest lightening with an immeasurable sense of relief. “Oswald, are-” He began to speak, but the sound of Tetch’s laughter crackling through the speakers caught his attention. He turned back to the array of faces with a stern expression. “What are you laughing-”

 

Tetch had doubled over, finally returning to the screen while wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. “Oh, how adorable,” he wheezed through hearty giggles. “I’m afraid our little penguin can’t hear you at the moment.”

 

That relief didn’t stay for long. He swung around to look at Oswald again, who hadn’t moved from his spot in the doorway. He was standing completely still, unnaturally so, his hands behind his back. On his chest a black screen had been mounted, alarm-clock letters reading 2:00. His expression was completely blank, his normally piercing blue eyes staring away into nothing. “What did- what did you do? Oswald!” Ed stuttered, halting mid-sentence as everything clicked into place. “You…” He returned his attention back to Tetch, a sinking feeling settling down in his stomach. “You hypnotized him.”

 

Tetch nodded, his laughter petering off. “Indeed-io, my friend. I must say, for a man as genius as you, you’re quite slow on the uptake.” Ed was too concerned to even be offended by that.

 

“Oswald, can you hear me?” Ed called out. Oswald’s expression remained slack and blank. If he hadn’t been breathing, Ed would’ve assumed he was dead. “What is this? What do you want?”

 

“Well,” Tetch hummed through cracking speakers, “this is where the game comes into play. Do you see that little screen attached to his chest? It’s set to a timer of two minutes. When the timer runs out, the bomb just behind the screen will detonate, blowing our little birdy into the sky.” Ed swallowed hard, his hand going white-knuckled around the gun. “If you make any attempts to mess with the explosive’s detonation, Oswald has been instructed to blow himself up, no countdown. Same thing happens if you try to escape. ”

 

Of course, nothing ever gets to be easy. “Then what do you want me to do? How do I deactivate it?”

 

Tetch smirked, leaning on his hands. “Simple: you play my game. If you win, Oswald will deactivate the bomb and break out of his trance, leaving the two of you to go free.”

 

“And how do I win?” Ed inquired, growing increasingly agitated at the lack of a proper response.

 

“Well, I can’t just _give_ away the answer. But I will give you a hint: Oswald knows how to win and he’ll be trying to help guide the way. I would follow his lead if I were you,” he said knowingly, wearing a mischievous grin.

 

Ed licked his lips, mind already racing but to nowhere helpful. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

 

Tetch chuckled. “Well, in all fairness, you don’t. But are you really willing to take that chance?” Ed’s retort died in his throat, leaving him in silence. Tetch nodded, as if to say, _that’s what I thought,_ before waving at the camera, at Ed. “Toodle-oo! We’ll chat later if you haven’t exploded!” The screens died in a sea of blackness and the speakers with them, leaving Ed simply staring at his own distorted curved reflection in the screens.

 

The sound of footsteps caught his attention. Ed spun on his heel to see Oswald walking robotically towards him. Oddly enough, his limp seemed to have disappeared, though his foot still stuck out to the right. “Oswald,” Ed called, his composed demeanor slipping through his fingers. He tucked his gun away quickly. He practically tripped over himself to meet Oswald halfway, hands immediately finding their way to his shoulders. Oswald’s eyes didn’t seem to move or even to register that Ed was there at all, simply falling to a place at the center of his vision. Even as Ed shook his shoulders, Oswald didn't give the slightest response. He really was deep under. 

 

“Oswald,” he said, much softer this time, hand finding its way to the place just under Oswald’s chin, trying to get them to make eye contact. Ed felt a strange sense of nausea wash over him as he realized, Oswald isn’t home right now. 

 

The speakers suddenly hummed back to life, scratching like a record player. The sound of an old-timey piano waltz began echoing throughout the room. Then there was a beep, and Ed’s eyes shot down. The timer had begun to count down. Ed’s heart jumped into his throat, breaking out into a nervous sweat.  _Dammit._  “Oh, oh dear, how- how do I-” Ed silenced himself as Oswald took a graceful step back, opening his arms so that one arm hung lazily out to the side at a 2 o’clock position, the other with a flat palm facing towards Ed.

 

“What is…” he murmured to himself, before quickly realizing what Oswald was doing. It was the following position in a ballroom waltz, assumed that Ed was supposed to be leading; that was supposedly what the piano music was for. “Oh, no,” he whispered, the reality quickly dawning on him that Oswald could die if he didn’t do this right.

 

 _Follow his lead._ Cautiously, he took Oswald’s left hand in his own, then hesitantly, put his other hand on Oswald’s waist. Oswald’s hand tightened around his, the other coming to rest on Ed’s shoulder. It was quickly, and very distractingly, becoming clear that the timer wasn’t the only reason for Ed’s nerves. Swallowing and strengthening his resolve, Ed breathed in deeply. “Alright, then, Tetch,” he said, more to himself than to anyone else. “I’ll play your game.”

 

Ed, as was customary, moved first, stepped backward with his left foot, Oswald followed, leaning into him and joining the waltz. Soon enough, they’d fallen into a rhythm, changing feet and rotating slowly back and forth. Though Ed was trying his hardest to focus, his mind was reminding him of the ever-present timer, now down to less than a minute.

 

The music was picking up and Oswald was leaning even further into him. It was mockingly intimate and yet not at all, as Oswald wasn’t acting of his own free will. As if all of this was just to mock Ed’s plight. _People don’t usually get all flustered when they’re this close to_ just _friends._

 

Oswald swung around, pulling Ed with him, in a move that almost upset the entire rhythm of their dance. Though he managed to recover, Oswald did this again, taking Ed’s hand and twirling himself under it. Instead of resuming their previous position, Oswald draped his arms around Ed’s neck, less than an inch separating their noses. Ed flushed a deep red, his heart rate skyrocketing. _This isn’t real,_ he tried to remind himself. _Oswald isn’t doing this._ It all felt deliberately… romantic. 

 

That was the word, wasn't it, Ed realized with a sinking feeling. That was the oh-so forbidden word that he wouldn't let himself say, the word that he wouldn't even let himself think about for fear of understanding what it really meant, what it meant for the both of them. 

 

_Worthless to one. Congratulations._

 

Suddenly, Oswald’s feet slipped out from under both of them. He fell backward and Ed flinched, diving down to catch him. It was only after Oswald had been caught that he realized: one, that Oswald had essentially led him into a dip, and two, that they were pressed almost nose to nose. As if his face couldn’t get any redder, his heart had stopped beating in his chest. Oswald was looking up at him with blank gray eyes, so very close to his own. 

 

Ed felt him tug at his tie, pulling them impossibly closer, and Ed felt the need to scream. _Isn’t this what you wanted?_ His traitor mind thought. _Isn’t this what you were dreaming about?_

 

A loud beep startled him from his thought, and, out of desperation and panic, he did what he was told: he followed Oswald’s lead. He pushed their lips together, Ed’s pursed and Oswald’s soft and slack, eyes shut tightly. This was all wrong. This isn’t how he’d wanted it. This wasn’t Oswald.

 

He pulled back enough to look Oswald in the eye. Oswald reached down to the little screen and pressed on something bordering the edge, and the timer clicked off at 0:04 seconds. Oswald went limp in his arms, eyes closing, and without the support, Ed was forced to lower him to the ground. 

 

“Oswald?” He asked, suddenly frantic, vaguely aware that the piano music had stopped playing.

 

The sound of the door opening once more echoed through the room. Ed snapped up as Jervis Tetch walked through the doorway, smiling widely and with open arms. “Congratulations, my olive-tinged companion! You won the-” Ed swiped the gun from out of his coat pocket and fired. “AGH-” The bullet pierced Tetch’s leg and he stumbled to the ground. Ed strode over to him, face burning with embarrassment that bordered on mortification and an unyielding rage.

 

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t kill you right now, he growled, pointing the gun down at Tetch’s skull as he stood over him. Tetch looked up, face contorted with pain and his leg bleeding profusely. Then, in a way that was completely disarming, he began to laugh again, even as it was clearly hurting him.

 

“Well, I guess it’s unavoidable, then,” he cackled, head falling back with hysterical laughter. “Really, it’s either them or you.”

 

Ed clenched his teeth and shouted, “Them’? What are you talking about?”

 

Tetch’s head lolled to the side to look at Ed. He gripped his leg and attempted to sit up. “I suppose the court won’t be too happy with me. You see, I wasn’t supposed to let him live!” His words devolved into crazed laughter once more that shook his whole body.

 

Ed tightened his hand around the gun, pointing it closer to Tetch’s head. “Who is the court? Answer me,” he was screaming now, the lack of a proper answer beginning to itch at the back of his brain like a nagging worm.

 

“Well, my dear Mr.Nygma, if you want to know so badly…” Tetch’s laughter faded, seeming to return back to earth mentally. Ed heard a soft click, followed by quiet rapid ticks in rhythmic succession. “That’s it,” he murmured softly, “listen to the ticking of the pocket watch, how it becomes one with your heartbeat.”

 

To Ed’s horror, the rhythmic ticking became louder and he lost the ability to move, his arm suddenly slack “N-no-” he managed to utter, trying with any energy he had to not listen to what was being said, to no avail.

 

“Oh, yes.” Tetch struggled to his feet, the pocket watch sticking out of his coat. “Now, look into my eyes.” Ed couldn’t help it, he did, feeling dizziness overwhelming his mind as it became more and more difficult to think. The darkness of Tetch’s eyes was an abyss, looking down into deep waters under a boat and suddenly, he was sinking, drowning-

 

“Stop-” Ed squeaked, finding it almost impossible to do anything about this. God, he was so tired, and he was falling down. Why not just give in?

 

Tetch was smiling wickedly but all of it seemed a thousand miles away to Ed. “Are you starting to understand now, Edward?” Tetch sneered. “This is _my_ game. These are _my_ rules, and no one is going to cheat at my game.” He couldn’t- he couldn’t _think-_ “Your mind belongs to me, as does his.” _Yes._ “I am the one who is in control!” Tetch was shouting, eyes wild. “And no one, no one at all, beats my game except for-!”

 

 **BANG**.

 

Ed was thrown violently out of his trance at the sound of a gunshot. He scrambled backward- when had he fallen to the floor?- in a panic. 

 

Tetch was standing completely still for a moment. There was a hole in his head, trickling crimson liquid down his face. Then, he collapsed backward onto the hard floor beneath them. Ed was panting as he regained his ability to process everything. _Tetch had been shot._ Ed spun around as he got to his feet, preparing to defend himself against an attacker.

 

His eyes landed on the figure a few paces away. Oswald was leaning on the table heavily, eyes panicked and brows furrowed as he lowered Ed’s gun. He had taken the mask off. “Oswald,” Ed breathed.

 

Oswald’s expression softened and his whole body sagged with relief. “Ed! Are you alright?”

 

In all truths, Ed felt like he’d been hit by a bus. His body was suffering from his lack of sleep and fighting off Tetch’s influence had completely drained him mentally. But somehow, that wasn’t even the worst of it. He’d kissed Oswald while he was under hypnosis. To Ed, this was a violation of their trust. Had it been only to save him, he’d be alright. However, this wasn’t the case. This settled it: he had romantic feelings towards Oswald, so maybe it had been, deep down, just a way to indulge himself. He felt sick, he _was_ sick. 

 

“I-I’m fine.” Ed stammered, stumbling over towards Oswald. “Just- how- how are you?”

 

Oswald practically lurched forward, throwing his arms around Ed and burying his face into his shoulder with a relieved sigh. As Ed returned the hug cautiously and his heart swelled with fondness, the guilt in his stomach multiplied. _Please, Oswald, please don’t,_ he thought, _please don’t give me this._

 

Oswald held on for a few seconds before releasing his hold, taking an awkward step backward. “Confused, mostly. The last thing- the last thing I remember is what happened when… when I was tied to the chair.” 

 

Somehow, Ed thought, this scenario was worse than him remembering everything. If he had, they could possibly dismiss what Ed had done and move on as quickly as they could, but not knowing meant Ed had the arduous task of explaining everything. Even what he’d done. “Um,” Ed swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “It’s- It’s been a few days since then.”

 

Oswald’s eyes widened. “A few _days_?!” Ed nodded. “What- What happened?”

 

Ed looked around hurriedly, nervousness beginning to crawl under his skin. “I’ll explain- I’ll explain all of that later, but we really- we really need to get out of here. I think Tetch has-” Ed noted the corpse on the floor, “ _had_ allies.”

 

Oswald took a breath, nodding and taking a step forward. “Okay, okay. Let’s- SHIT!” Oswald fell forwards and down onto the floor.

 

Ed raced over to Oswald, quickly falling to his knees to help him. “Oswald!”

 

Oswald shook his head vehemently. “I’m fine, I’m fine, it’s just-” He hissed, a hand massaging into his shin. Of course, the way Tetch had him walking around uncomfortably could not have been pleasant in its effects.

 

“Your leg?” Oswald nodded, somewhat sheepishly. “Here, I’ll…” He carefully placed his arm under Oswald’s shoulder and lifted both of them up so that Oswald could essentially use him as a crutch. _You_ _shouldn’t be doing this. You’re taking advantage of this to be close to him, aren’t you?_ “Is that alright,” Ed inquired softly.

 

Oswald smiled up at him in a way that broke his heart. “Yes, thank you, Ed.”

 

With that, they were off, and Ed was carrying both Oswald and the suffocating weight of his actions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I refuse to apologize.  
> I will apologize, however, that this chapter took longer than usual to come out. This was definitely a hard chapter to write, as it serves as a pretty high-tension point in the story. I had a really hard time making it seem not-cheesy, but it probably still does. Still, I did have a fuckin' field day with this chapter. I hope you enjoyed it! I promise the next chapter will come out soon and it will be a bit shorter.  
> Thank you all so much for reading. If you like the story, please give kudos and/or comment. Seriously, those are the things that keep me motivated to write. And thank you so much to everyone who has done either/or on previous chapters. I love y'all so much!


	6. Take Me To Church

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oswald is almost pathetically in love. Ed learns that his actions have consequences, but perhaps they're not all bad.

It was something akin to waking up abruptly from a good night's rest by a loud noise. Now Oswald was in the phase of being half-asleep and scrambling for purchase with little notion of what the hell was happening. 

 

A loud _bang_ had startled him awake. He was laying on the floor. The first thing he noticed was an itchy mask covering half of his vision, which he was quick to tear off. When had he fallen asleep? Where was he? A scene was playing out in front of him and it took his brain a moment to put everything together. 

 

The first thing he noticed was Ed: gorgeous, wonderful, genius Ed. He was laying with his back on the concrete floor, the way someone would land if they'd been pushed downwards. Tetch was standing above him and holding something out; the pocket watch.

 

_Fuck._

 

From there it was a blur, his body moving without thought. Oswald noticed a gun on the ground a few feet away from Ed, so he wasted no time scurrying over to it and pulling himself up to stand using a table (a dining table?). The second his gun was pointed in Tetch's direction, he shot.

 

 **_Bang_ ** _._

 

Suddenly, he was aware of everything again, as if he woke up from a dream. Tetch's body dropped to the ground with a bullet wound piercing his head, and Oswald felt the reverberation of impact through his feet.

 

Ed jerked at the sound of the gunshot. His panicked chocolate eyes met Oswald's and he was suddenly hyper-aware of his breathing, like he came alive. 

 

"Oswald," Ed breathed, climbing to his feet and adjusting his glasses with a shaky hand.

 

And then everything came back to him: the kidnapping, the spray that Ed had endured, his unknown sacrifice, and his love. The way his heart swelled with love and adoration at the sight of Ed, the way his breath was stolen away at the mere sight of that tall, lanky, wonderful man.

 

"Ed," he exclaimed before he could help himself. "Are you alright?" Ed struggled to his feet. He looked exhausted and he was shaking, noticeably more disheveled than usual. Even so, he made his way over to Oswald, breathing deeply in an obvious attempt to maintain his composure.

 

"I-I'm fine. Just- how- how are you?" His voice was wavering and Oswald's heart ached, remembering what he'd witnessed Ed go through. The second Ed was within reach, Oswald pulled Ed into his arms in a tight embrace, burying his face in his shoulder. He could feel Ed's heart racing against his own. _I'm so sorry_ , he wanted to say. _I'm so sorry you had to go through what you did._ But he wasn't quite that brave. 

 

Perhaps he held Ed for longer than necessary, so he stepped back awkwardly, his face flushing. “Confused, mostly. The last thing- the last thing I remember is what happened when… when I was tied to the chair.” _When I saw you cry for the first time_ , was left unsaid. 

 

"Um," Ed swallowed hard and Oswald could practically hear his mind racing. "It's- it's been a few days since then." 

 

Oswald couldn't help but gasp. "A few _days?!_ " Ed nodded hesitantly, and Oswald stared down at the ground in a vain attempt to remember anything, to no avail. His mind was devoid of any hints as to what had happened. He could only remember falling asleep, if that was even the right word. "What- What happened?"

 

The color seemed to drain from Ed's face. “I’ll explain- I’ll explain all of that later, but we really- we really need to get out of here. I think Tetch has-” Ed swallowed, looking down at the corpse of the recently deceased Tetch, “ _had_ allies.”

 

Oswald took a breath and grounded himself. "Okay, okay," he said, putting off his panic-induced rage for later. "Let's-" The second he put weight on his bad foot, a searing pain shot through his leg like hellfire, and he went tumbling forwards. "SHIT!"

 

Ed was right by his side in an instant. "Oswald!" 

 

Oswald shook his head, his face flushing in embarrassment. Oswald didn't often have much to be self-conscious about, but this was one of those rare exceptions; even if it was in front of the person he trusted more than anything. “I’m fine, I’m fine, it’s just-” he massaged his shin in an attempt to ease his aching muscles. 

 

"Your leg?" Ed asked softly, and as he nodded. Oswald couldn't help but flush at the way Ed spoke. "Here, I'll-" Ed cautiously looped his arm under his  shoulders and hoisted him up, letting Oswald lean on him heavily. The proximity left him sure he would burst a blood vessel. "Is this alright?" Ed asked, practically whispering. Oswald leaned his head on Ed's shoulder. It wasn't that he needed to, but the feeling of Ed's warmth through his blazer was the most comforting thing he had felt in a long time. 

 

"Yes, thank you, Ed." 

 

Ed guided the two of them to a doorway, practically carrying them both up the stairwell. Oswald did his very best to hide his discomfort by focusing on Ed. Ed, wonderful, amazing, brilliant Ed. 

 

It was when they reached the top of the stairwell that Oswald noticed they were in the Narrows and Ed had driven there in his car. It looked shockingly more high-class than anything else in the slums, and Oswald was surprised that the car was intact. Ed set Oswald gently into the shotgun seat before climbing into the driver's. 

 

"How are you feeling? Do you need anything to drink? Eat? I don't know if you've had anything since a few days ago. I have some water with me right now, if you-" Oswald could hear the strain in his voice.

 

"Ed," he said, as firmly as he could. "I'm fine, I promise. Again, just a little confused." Ed nodded, silencing himself and gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles. He looked more tense than Oswald had ever seen him, and his heart clenched up at the sight.

 

"But what about you?" He asked, placing a tentative hand on Ed's knee. Ed visibly flinched, and Oswald drew his hand back. "A-are _you_ okay?" Ed closed his eyes, his jaw trembling. 

 

"I'm alright, it's… I was just concerned about your safety. But I'm glad you're alright," he smiled over at Oswald, but it was clear that it was for show. Ed quickly turned away and started the ignition. 

 

Oswald opened his mouth. _I love you_ , he wanted to say. _Please let me help._ But his mouth was dry and his stomach coiled up with nerves, so he stayed silent. 

 

The drive back was nearly silent. Ed stared straight ahead, sweat visibly shining on his forehead. Oswald refrained from looking at him as well, trying his damnedest to remember anything that had happened over the last few days, to no avail. It was clear that something had happened, but everything since he'd allowed himself to be hypnotized was a sea of black nothingness. 

 

He'd been changed into a different outfit, he realized, and he'd been placed into a sort of an antique set up. Like a play. What had Ed seen? What had scared him so much?

 

When they arrived back to the manor, Ed quickly helped Oswald out of the car, moving stiffly. And even as he wanted to hold Ed and promise to protect him from then on, Oswald stayed silent. 

 

Like a coward. 

 

* * *

  
  


Oswald was sitting on the couch in the den, deep in thought. Ed, meanwhile, was pacing in front of an unlit fireplace and chewing his nails. It was the same fireplace where Ed had promised that Oswald could always count on him. _Look how that turned out,_ he thought to himself, the guilt in his stomach having multiplied to a point that Ed was sure he would throw up. What was worse, he could hear his double in the corners of his mind. 

 

 _"Wow, you really messed up this time. God, I can't watch, this is too pathetic."_ Ed bit his tongue in an attempt to keep himself from responding. " _You better cherish this moment, cause he's gonna kick you out once he realizes what you did. All 'cause you couldn't help yourself."_

 

"Ed," Oswald said firmly, snapping him out of his thoughts. He was looking at him with a furrowed brow, like he'd already tried to get his attention. 

 

"Oh, um- yes? Sorry." He turned towards Oswald, forcing himself to stand still. Oswald pulled himself off the couch with difficulty, limping over towards where Ed was standing. 

 

"Ed, you're bleeding." Oswald reached down and took Ed's hand, examining his fingers with a focused expression. He hadn't even realized that he'd chewed his nails deep enough to draw blood. Ed fought the urge to lean into the touch, forcing himself to look away. He didn't deserve this kind of care. 

 

Oswald pulled out his pocket square and dabbed Ed's fingers in order to catch the blood. "Thank you," he said cautiously, flexing his fingers. Why was his mouth so dry? "What were you saying? Before, I mean."

 

"Oh," Oswald hummed, continuing to tend to Ed's hand. "Just ranting, that's all. I hope you can understand my frustration. Using dirty tactics… using you as a bargaining chip. I swear, I'll kill Crane for his part in this, and I wish I hadn't given Tetch the mercy of a quick death."

 

Ed bit at his lip. "Speaking of which, I've been meaning to ask about that."

 

Oswald looked up at him with a hesitant expression. "I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific."

 

Ed swallowed, feeling his pulse against where the cloth was wrapped around his fingers. "I meant… They were trying to hypnotize you, right?"

 

Oswald held his breath. "Yes."

 

"Meaning they couldn't before."

 

Oswald furrowed his brow. "I knew what they wanted. I wasn't going to let them have it, either."

 

The gears in Ed's brain were turning, yet going nowhere. It didn't make enough sense. "So why did you?" He swallowed at Oswald's confused, downright hesitant expression. "Let them, I mean. You let them."

 

"I…" Ed could see that Oswald had his tongue in his cheek, eyes scanning the floor as if choosing his words carefully. Then, he looked up at Ed with  a sad yet genuine expression that made Ed's breath hitch."They were hurting you, Ed. Whatever Crane did, I… I couldn't let them. I couldn't let them hurt you, and I swear that I won't ever let that happen again. And I- I want to apologize for not making that decision sooner."

 

At that, Ed felt his heart break. He jerked his hand away, the cloth falling to the ground. He stumbled backwards, turning away and holding his head in his hands. No, he didn't deserve this. Oswald was in the dark and here he was, giving Ed praises without knowing what he'd done- it was _killing_ him. It was a pain that cut deep and Ed couldn't take it. The desire to simply bury himself alive to avoid the humiliation was beginning to become overwhelming.

 

Oswald limped around him so that they were standing face to face. "What's wrong?" Edward opened his mouth to speak, but Oswald held a hand up, his expression serious. "And don't you dare say that you're fine, Edward. I know you better than that." 

 

Ed wiped the sweat off his forehead and adjusted his foggy glasses. "It's- I'm just- I've just been under a lot of st-stress, that's- that's all." 

 

Oswald tilted his head and stared into Ed's soul with an accusing expression. "Did- did something happen? You're not- you're not acting like yourself." Ed spun around, rubbing his eyes and making an attempt to get away. However, Oswald grabbed his hand, and when Ed met his eyes, there was a sort of concerned softness in them. "Ed, please."

 

Somehow, the gentle expression was worse than the harsh tone. He did his best to glare, jerking his hand away. "Just- just drop it, Oswald."

 

Oswald's brow furrowed and his tone darkened. "Something _did_ happen."

 

Ed's fists were closed tightly, white at the knuckles. "Oswald, I'm warning you."

 

"Don't turn your back on me _,"_ Oswald snapped at Ed's newest attempt to avoid eye contact. _"What happened_?" The way he spoke was a command, sharp enough to cut through the air, and Ed couldn't help but start talking, even if it was just out of self-preservation instinct.

 

"It's just- Jervis Tetch, he- he wanted to-" Ed clamped a hand over his mouth in shock, shutting his eyes tight. He felt like he was being cooked alive, boiled in a pot that was Oswald's stare.

 

Oswald got up in his face once more in an attempt to meet his eyes, trying against Ed's wishes to get into his space."What? What did he do?" "Is there something you're hiding from me-"

 

Ed was sure he was going to have a heart attack, speaking half-through his hand. "Oh, _lord-_ I- I didn't mean-"

 

Oswald gripped his shoulders, fire in his gaze."Ed!"

 

Ed's double laughed into his ears. _"Here comes the punchline."_

 

"Oswald, _please_ don't-" he said, sounding pathetic. 

 

"Edward, if this is something that happened while Jervis had his grubby little fingers in my brain, it is my _right_ to know!" Oswald's grip on his shoulders was tight, practically digging into his blazer. Ed was gasping for air, he couldn't breathe, he was going to pass out- "So help me, if you don't tell me what happened _right now,_ I-"

 

That's when he broke, his resistance finally cracking underneath his feet. "I _kissed you, Oswald!"_ Ed shouted, and the second it left his mouth, he clasped both hands over it and stepped back. Suddenly, it was silent besides the sound of the pounding in his ears. Oswald's hands retracted and he stared at Ed with wide, disbelieving eyes and his face beet-red. It was unbearable. Removing his hands from his mouth, he forced himself to speak, even though he could feel himself imploding.

 

"I- I… Te-Tetch t-told me that I had to play his game. He- he said that if I- I didn't win, he'd kill- he'd kill- you. And he l- he left me into a- a dance, and I- I had to ki-kiss you. I-I'm sorry, Oswald." Oswald didn't respond, his brows furrowed and his eyes faraway. "This… this is probably a grave violation of our- our trust and our mutual boundaries, and I cannot apologize enough. I- hope you can for-forgive me for my actions. I would never- I would never want to jeopardize our friendship for… for _anything._ " He inhaled deeply, regaining his composure. Oswald, however, was still, looking down as if deep in thought. "Oswald?"

 

Oswald looked up, finally meeting his gaze but now with a determined expression. He surged forward, yanking Ed down by the tie before he could react. Suddenly, their lips were pressed together awkwardly, but together nonetheless. Ed felt the wind knocked from his lungs. Oswald's lips were firm and still, but before he could make a move to return the affection, Oswald drew back, looking semi-confident.

 

"See?" He said with a brittle expression. "Now- Now we're even." 

 

Everything was standing still once more, but not in a moment of panic. He didn't feel that he was standing on the edge of a cliff. It felt as though he finally had a moment to breathe the air, _really_ breathe it, and suddenly everything made sense. Oswald had kissed him, confidently, with a kind of determination he didn't see often. He suddenly felt really silly. Why had he been so terrified?

 

Oswald, on the other hand, lost his confidence in a single moment, his eyes widening and his face going completely red. "Oh, oh no- oh god, oh god, I am so, so sorry, I- I don't know what came over me." 

 

It was so ridiculous, here they were, trading anxieties back and forth even though the answer was plain and right in front of them. Ed thought he was good at puzzles, but he mentally kicked himself for not understanding it sooner. Oswald was stammering, looking mortified. "That was- that was completely inappropriate and I-"

 

Ed found that he was tired of talking, so he strode forwards and took Oswald's face in his hands, pulling them together once more in a connection between their lips. Oswald gasped at the suddenness, but that gasp quickly turned into a contented sigh as he sank into Ed's embrace, grasping at Ed's blazer to pull them closer. 

 

And suddenly, it was real. It was a kind of real that lit up every nerve ending in his body, the kind of real he had longed for when pressed against Oswald's cold lips for the first, unwarranted, time. Now, though, Oswald was breathing hot and anxious air through his nose that tingled on Ed's upper lip. It was bliss. For the first time in days, he felt safe.

 

They eventually pulled away from their inexperienced but simultaneously perfect embrace. Oswald was looking up at him with wide shining eyes, tears swimming in a sea of blue. Ed was suddenly lost, but in the most amazing way Oswald took his hands off of Ed's blazer and brought them slowly, trembling, to Ed's face. When Ed didn't protest, Oswald took Ed's face in his hands, so lightly that Ed wasn't even sure they were there. Nevertheless, he leaned into the touch and let his eyes flutter closed. Oswald, in turn, held him more firmly.

 

Oswald's hands were calloused and warm, but Ed found he preferred it that way; there was something so grounding about Oswald's grip on him. It was deliberately gentle, as if Oswald was afraid of hurting him. Like Ed was made of glass. No one had _ever_ touched him like that. 

 

When he opened his eyes again, Oswald was looking at him with such adoration that Ed practically melted.

 

"Ed, I love you," he breathed, and though it didn't feel much like an admission, Ed felt a tremendous weight lifted off of his chest and he sighed though the lump in his throat, and he was _smiling_. He felt happy in the same way he felt sad, the same way he was scared and haunted by ghosts of his past, he felt free.

 

He looked down into the blueness of Oswald's eyes, heart fluttering.

 

"I cannot be bought, but… but I can be stolen with," he huffed appreciatively, wiping the rear from under Oswald's eye, "a glance. I am worthless to one, but,"

 

Oswald's eyes shone with recognition, and they said together, "priceless to two." And they chuckled gently to each other because all of it seemed so obvious now.

 

Oswald stroked Ed's cheek with a kind of tenderness that he wasn't sure he'd ever felt before. "Love," Oswald whispered breathlessly. "You love me, too." And finally, with a confidence that rivalled anything he felt in a long time, Ed nodded. Oswald beamed up at him. "I knew it. I knew you did." He pulled Ed into a tight embrace, burying his face into his shoulder. Ed held him closer, holding the back of his head lovingly. 

 

But standing across from him, behind the couch, was his double: the other-Edward, grinning at him in a way that said ' _See? I was right.'_ Then, he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD FINALLY THESE TWO IDIOTS KISS. At least I got to it faster than the show did (as in they didn't so take that, Fox, I beat you). But as nice as this development is, I'm only halfway done with this story, so... :|
> 
> Sorry not sorry for killing Jervis
> 
> Also, I wrote this entire chapter in one day because I was at rehearsal for 8 hours on a fucking holiday (I'm not bitter)
> 
> As always, thank you so much for the comments and kudos that have been left on previous chapters. And, if you like what I'm doing, please comment and/or give kudos. It gives me the motivation to keep writing! ❤️ Love y'all


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